Unbreakable
by patronsaintof
Summary: Hermione is captured by Severus Snape. Draco is intent on deserting Voldemort's cause. What happens when their lives become tangled together? Can Draco save Hermione? Can he save himself while at the same time foiling Voldemort's plans? Eventual Dramione.
1. Captured

**Unbreakable**

by patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything Harry Potter. If I did, do you really think I'd be doing fan fiction? ...well maybe I would. 

**Author's Note: **This story is in response to a challenge. Love it, hate it. Review it, don't review it. Either way, this is getting written. Hopefully, you'll enjoy.

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Chapter One  
_Captured_

The silence in the room was deafening. Harry Potter's face was white, his breathing shallow and his hands shook as he tried desperately to hold onto the back of a chair for support. Standing before him, somberly, was Molly Weasley, her face distraught and streaked with tears. Her daughter, Ginny, sat crumpled on a worn couch, her brother Ron sitting beside her, his face blank with shock. The silence was broken, quite suddenly, by a sob that tore from Ginny's throat violently. Harry closed his eyes briefly before opening them and made his way to his girlfriend's trembling self. He sat beside her heavily, his arm snaking it's way around her back. She sank into him, sobbing into her hands.

"But how could they have gotten her?" Ron's voice was soft, filled with sorrow. Harry had to strain to hear him properly, even though they were sitting close. No one spoke in response for several minutes. It was Molly that broke the quiet.

"I suspect her family has been notified?" Her question was directed to the hallway, where in the shadows Minerva McGonagall stood. McGonagall nodded slowly, her mouth unable to form the proper words to reply. One of her hands clutched at the fabric covering her chest, as if to heal a pain that emanated from her heart. "Come on, Ron, let's get you something to eat, dear." Molly said suddenly, reaching a hand out to her son. Ron stared at her blankly for several moments before grasping his mother's hand and allowing her to help him rise to his feet. They moved past McGonagall, mother embracing her son tightly, and disappeared from view.

"Do you know who took her?" Harry asked, his voice choked with emotion. McGonagall's gaze was steady and focused on Ginny. She shook her head, eyes never leaving the sobbing girl.

"Perhaps we should have Miss Weasley join her brother and mother before we continue speaking, Mr. Potter." McGonagall's voice was curt. Harry frowned at her, but gently turned to Ginny. He touched her chin, lifting her face to his. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, he leaned forward, whispering something into her ear. The girl nodded in acquiescence. She sniffed, kissed Harry sweetly on the cheek and then rose to her feet. She stayed where she was for a mere moment, shooting McGonagall a harsh glare, and then strode from the room purposefully.

"Now, what do you know?" Harry asked, once Ginny was safely out of earshot. McGonagall made her way to a seat opposite him, sat and looked at her hands while she decided what to say.

"We don't know who took her, only that her house has been destroyed, there are several bodies that have yet to be identified, though hers was not among them, and quite clearly there is a dark mark hanging above her home. It was evident there was quite a struggle that occurred." McGonagall's strong voice wavered, and it was plain that though she was deeply troubled by this information she wished to appear strong in the face of such a disaster. "Hermione Granger is a strong girl. She may have been able to get away." McGonagall said, but Harry could hear in her voice that even she didn't believe it.

"Yeah, maybe." Harry said dully. He watched McGonagall as she looked again at her hands. Her eyes lifted to meet his, and he saw the pain within them. Hermione Granger had been her best student at Hogwarts. The professor had an admiration and pride in the girl that was apparent in the tear wet eyes that stared at Harry. "We'll find her." Harry said, staring back at McGonagall. He clenched his fists and whispered, "We'll find her."

* * *

Many miles away Hermione Granger was in a place that over time would prove difficult to find. She knew nothing of her location and nothing of her captor. The men had come during the night wearing dark robes and masks. Her visiting family, three cousins, had been killed almost instantly and though Hermione had put up a heroic fight, it had proved futile. She was disarmed and viciously attacked with the Cruciatus. Already having suffered this pain, Hermione was able clench her teeth against the scream that threatened to rip free of her throat. She breathed deeply and shallowly through her nose, falling to her knees. The pain was lifted almost the instant she hit the ground and they circled her. 

They laughed at her. One of them touched her hair, kneeling beside her, only to grasp her curls tightly, pulling her roughly to her knees, holding her head back. Tears streamed down her face from the pain of the curse, but she still hadn't screamed. Behind their masks their voices came, muffled. She couldn't tell if she recognized them, and in any case the lingering pain that coursed through her body would have prevented recognition. The man who held her hair tightly released it and she fell forward, trying to even her breathing. She failed miserably.

What happened next is somewhat of a mystery, for Hermione Granger's mind went black. Her eyes closed, and the last image she saw was the face of her beautiful cousin Katherine. The beautiful face she had known since childhood with wonderful blue eyes that reminded Hermione of the sky on a cloudless day. Those eyes would stay with Hermione in the blackness, those sightless eyes that seemed to stare right into her soul. The eyes stared at her, the eyes that she had failed to save. When Hermione woke, the eyes became a distant memory, but not so distant that they didn't lurk at the corners of her mind.

She blinked groggily, taking in the darkness around her. A single candle lit the room dimly. The walls were made of stone, and seemed to glisten with wetness. It smelled rankly of decay and stagnant water, causing Hermione's stomach to churn. She tried to lift herself, but her body screamed in protest, still aching from her previous battle. Instead, she merely turned her face to the side, noting the wooden door. It would be locked, certainly, though she had a compelling urge to check. Her body prevented her from doing so, when again she tried to rise and her arm buckled beneath her weight as she tried to lift herself to a seated position. With a sigh of resignation, Hermione lay still, breathing deeply, trying to calm the erratic breathing of her heart.

How long she stayed that way is uncertain, but eventually she fell into a troubled sleep, plagued by Death Eater's and dead eyes. She woke with a start, sweating profusely and a tortured cry dying on her lips. Shivering in the sudden cold, despite the heat that had disturbed her in her slumber, Hermione quickly pushed herself up. Her body still protested against such movement, but she quelled it, lifting her knees and pressed them against her chest. She wrapped her arms around them to conserve warmth. She buried her face, hoping her breath against her skin would warm her. It didn't.

Hours passed, or perhaps days, before Hermione was greeted with the presence of another. She heard the footsteps first. Distinctly she heard several pairs of boots hitting the stone floor. Then came the voices. They were distant and muffled. She couldn't make out any words that were being said but one voice rose among them. She knew that voice and it sent a chill down her spine to hear it. As they neared the room she occupied, the voices stopped. Hermione waited with bated breath as the door scraped open.

She lifted her eyes and stared into the face of her captor. In the dim light, the man's sallow skin seemed to glow evilly, and his black eyes glittered. He smiled maliciously at Hermione, stepping into the room. She could see behind him two hulking shadows, but her gaze remained on them only briefly. It was the man before her that concerned her most. A man she had known for seven years of her life. A man she detested. Hermione thought her heart would break through her chest at how hard it was beating. Severus Snape laughed, and stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Hermione sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain as calm as possible. Snape knelt before her, his eyes searching her face for a moment before he smiled at her again. One hand lifted to push the hair away from her face and Hermione moved away from him so quickly, and with such force, that her head hit the wall behind her with a resounding thud. She winced at the pain. Snape pursed his lips, chuckling softly.

"Now, now Miss Granger, we wouldn't want to hurt you any more than you already are. Yes, we've got big plans for you. Very big plans indeed." Snape whispered, rising to his feet. He watched her as she watched him. There was a fierce look in her eyes, like that of a caged animal. There was something dangerous beneath the fear in her eyes. The smile widened on his face as he slowly drew his wand out from within his robes. He pointed it at Hermione lazily, noting the way her jaw clenched tightly. "But really, we only need you _alive_." He murmured. Hermione couldn't hear what he said next, it was so softly spoken but the pain that tore her from her seat spoke clearly enough. She rose to her feet only slightly before slamming down onto her knees. Groaning with the pain that coursed through her veins, that shot from her kneecaps that she swore were shattered now, Hermione struggled to lift her face, to keep her eyes open so that she could stare at her former professor. The pain lifted and Hermione gasped for breath.

"You coward." Hermione spat out between gulps of air. She supported herself with her arms, looking up at him with hatred etched in the lines of her face. "You filthy coward!" Hermione was unable to say anything more. Rage distorted Snape's face and his boot connected with her jaw, wrenching her head to the side. Her neck burned in pain, and she was sure that her jaw had been dislocated. She could taste blood, the metallic tang, and whimpered softly. Rough hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her up. She could feel Snape's warm breath, could smell the sourness on it. He glared at her, eyes blazing, mouth twisted angrily.

"Do not ever call me a coward." He hissed, shoving her away from him. She hit the wall, once again connecting her head with stone. Her eyes closed tightly against the pain. She could hear his footsteps walking away from her, heard the scrape of the door open, heard it slam shut. After the sound of them walking dissipated, she opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. The candle had gone out. Whether he had put it out or it had merely burned out, she didn't know, but she was trapped in darkness now. Trapped in pain and darkness.


	2. Deception

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

** Disclaimer:** No, the characters are not mine. The plot, however, is very much mine. 

**Author's Note:** If anything is confusing...such as the dream sequence. It will be explained in a later chapter. Forgive the lack of excitement. The plot needs time to build up, fully.

* * *

Chapter Two  
_Deception_

"Draco, please…" Narcissa Malfoy pleaded, her hands clasped tightly before her chest. Her cold blue eyes were fixed on her son's impassive face. There was no mistaking the fear in those eyes, but Draco Malfoy simply looked away. "He won't let you live after this. Please reconsider." Narcissa begged, moving towards him, reaching out a hand to him plaintively. Draco moved away from her touch.

"This isn't what I want." Draco said, his voice emotionless and cold. He looked at his mother, and then looked away. "This," he made a sweeping motion with his hand, "is not what I need." His eyes flitted about the lavish room before settling on his mother again. She averted his gaze.

"After all I have done to protect you…" Narcissa whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. She reached out to steady herself on the edge of an ornate desk blinking back tears. "After all I have done to protect you!" She repeated, her voice rising slightly. She slammed her hand on the desk's smooth wood, open palmed. Draco lowered his head. His mother showing this kind of emotion was a strange thing.

"You don't understand. You couldn't." Draco began but the fear in Narcissa's eyes was replaced by a slow building anger as she fixed him with a reproachful glare. She stepped away from the desk, towards him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. It was he who now averted her eyes.

"I couldn't understand?" She demanded icily. She tipped her head to the side as she studied her son. "Look at me." She said suddenly, viciously. Draco's eyes fixed themselves on hers. She said nothing, her eyes boring into his with indignation.

"Mother…" He began again, but she raised a hand to silence him, lifting her chin in unison.

"No, Draco. You are the one who couldn't possibly understand." Narcissa spat out. She lowered her hand quickly, moving it slightly behind her skirt, but Draco saw that it was shaking. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it and turned on his heel with every intention of leaving the room, but his mother's words stopped him. "I understand better than you think. You'd do well to remember everything I've sacrificed for you."

Draco stayed where he was for several moments, his back to his mother, before he nodded once and walked quickly from the room. He heard his mother swear and couldn't help how his mouth twitched slightly at refined Narcissa Malfoy swearing. The moment was fleeting, and the twitch disappeared rapidly to be replaced with a frown. His mother was right. Lord Voldemort would not let him live if he refused his given task, but he didn't want to kneel before another. He didn't want to submit to that rule. Something in him rebelled against it. It rebelled against everything his father had stood for. There was no honor in kneeling before a dying man, killing men, women and children. Draco set his jaw as he walked, his mind set on one thing: he would never bow down and submit to Voldemort's rule.

The trouble would be convincing Voldemort that Draco was still his loyal servant, and keeping his mother safe in the process.

* * *

Hermione breathed in deeply, closing her eyes as the sweet scent of jasmine and lavender soothed her troubled mind. Somewhere she could hear a bird singing, but it was a distressing sound that invaded the sudden quiet of her mind. Her eyes flew open, her face turning quickly, her eyes searching for the avian. Something was wrong about the landscape. Only seconds before the trees to her left had looked inviting, but now the shadow within the woods was a sinister darkness. The bird had stopped singing the moment she opened her eyes. Shivering slightly, Hermione glanced at the sky. Clouds were lazily drifting above her, making their way towards the bright sun to cover it. The sky was darkening and a chill was permeating the air. 

The flowery scent had disappeared from the air to be replaced by the stench of rot and death. Crinkling her nose at the unpleasantness, Hermione began to walk. She set her path away from the woods, walking in the direction of a dirt path that seemed to lead to a small village not too far away. So far, she had seen no distant figures walking amongst the buildings. With the growing darkness, she saw no lights appear within the windows. Despite the fear that crept into her stomach, she determinedly set one foot in front of the other, somehow knowing that the village was a far better fate than whatever lay within the woods behind her.

As she neared the buildings, she noticed the stench became stronger. Gagging, she lifted her hand, pulling her sleeve down and spreading it over her fingers. She placed this makeshift mask before her nose and mouth, hoping to filter out the overwhelming odor. It helped only slightly, but she was grateful for it nonetheless. After several minutes, it became too much to bear, and she dropped her hand deciding instead to breathe through her mouth. The small thought came to her that she could taste the stench, but she shook her head, pushing her thoughts to other things as she realized how ridiculous that was.

The houses were quiet, still and dark. Many of the windows were broken, and the outside walls were falling apart in places, where the wood had begun to rot. It was after she had passed her second house that she saw the bodies. They were mangled and piled between the houses. Between each house there were perhaps four or five bodies, thrown haphazardly together. They were rotting; Hermione could see flies and other insects crawling on their decaying flesh. She gasped upon seeing them, and breathed in suddenly through her nose. The sight mixed with the rising smell caused her stomach to churn and she leaned over just as the bile began to rise in her throat. Her eyes stung with tears as she vomited.

Spitting, once she had emptied her stomach of it's contents and straightened, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Stepping away from the bodies, she turned, deciding to head back the way she had come. She stopped suddenly, her eyes wide. A gripping fear began in the pit of her stomach and slowly spread through the rest of her body, leaving her skin feeling tingly. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her lips parted, as if she was about to speak, but then she gasped. A sharp pain began in her chest, a searing pain that made her eyes burn fiercely with tears. Her breathing came in shallow gulps, one hand rising to the epicenter of the pain. Her fingers touched cold metal, they closed around it. She gripped the metal tightly in her hand, knowing she held the hilt of a dagger. Bracing herself she pulled it away from her with all of her strength, closing her eyes.

The pain in her chest disappeared in the sudden darkness behind her closed lids and Hermione sighed a breath of relief only to feel it hitch in her throat once again. A throbbing in her jaw, a dull ache along the back of her skull, and a fiery pain that pulsed from her knees replaced the pain. Swearing softly, though it came out as more of an incoherent mumble, for moving her jaw even slightly caused her body to go rigid with pain, Hermione tried to move her head. The muscles in her neck strained to move, but the intensity was too much for her to handle, so she lay still. She opened her eyes, only to find a grey-green stone wall in front of her. It still looked slick with moisture.

Dull sunlight lit the room, but Hermione couldn't see the window from which the light came. She assumed it must be on the wall behind her, above her. If she wasn't in so much pain, she would have moved, but the ache her body was enduring made her want to close her eyes and sleep. The sudden scent of jasmine wafted to her nose and Hermione forgot the pain as her mind was triggered into remembering her dream. The smell was gone so fast that she assumed she had imagined it, but it had brought back the images from her dream. She remembered the bodies. She remembered the knife.

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of footsteps in the hall, and the door to her room was opened. From her position on the floor, all Hermione could make out was a pair of dusty black leather boots. She wondered if they were the same boots that had dislocated her jaw. The man wearing the boots knelt before her, gingerly touching her face. She could see his face clearly now. She did not recognize him. He bore a look of concern on his face, a face that was young, though older than hers. He had kind eyes, which surprised Hermione; he had kind brown eyes.

"Looks like they sure did a number on you, didn't they?" He asked, his voice soft and disapproving. Hermione didn't understand. Knowing it would hurt too badly to try to speak, she stayed silent, watching him apprehensively. He must have seen the fear in her eyes, for he made a soft clucking sound and shook his head. "No need to fear me, dear. I'm only a doctor." He murmured, touching her jaw.

She made a sound deep in her throat, a painful sound and tried to shy from his touch, but his free hand gripped her shoulder, keeping her in place. He continued to touch along her body purposefully, assessing her injuries. It was when he began to feel along her ribcage that she realized he had said doctor instead of healer. She didn't understand why a Muggle doctor would be seeing her, but then she understood perfectly. Wherever she was being hidden was in the Muggle world. It would make sense, to keep her away from the Wizarding world. Who would think a Death Eater would bring his captive to the Muggle world, anyway?

She heard the soft murmurings of the doctor, but couldn't make out what he was saying and then felt a small prick somewhere on her arm. Hermione closed her eyes suddenly feeling very tired. A sense of calm seemed to wash over her and the pain became a distant feeling. She wandered aimlessly in the darkness that surrounded her, feeling no fear, but crying all the same.

* * *

The doctor cleared his throat as he entered the room, hands in the pockets of his black coat. Severus Snape, who had been standing near a window gazing out, turned immediately. He bore a look of concern on his face, a fitful worry. The doctor motioned for Severus to sit, and made his own way to a chair opposite from the desk. Severus sat behind the desk, watching the doctor collect his thoughts before he spoke. 

"You say you were away on business and arrived to find the home destroyed as it was?" The doctor asked, quietly. Severus nodded curtly, but did not speak. The doctor nodded once, made a soft sound and narrowed his eyes. "And you found her shortly after that, deciding not to move her because of the apparent injuries to her head? You were afraid you would hurt her further?"

"Yes. I know very little about these things. I care for my niece a great deal and didn't want her to feel any more pain than she already was feeling. That's why we called for you immediately." Severus said, his voice low, filled with anguish. He debated saying more, before deciding that it would be best to leave it at that. The doctor seemed to be analyzing his words carefully.

"I'm not sure what kind of business you deal in, Mr. Boone, but whatever it is, you've greatly endangered your niece's life." The doctor's voice was grave. "She may be moved. The injuries to her head aren't severe, but had she been left unseen and untreated, it would have led to further complications. It's fortunate you found her when you did and were able to contact my employers before she became worse. It's fortunate that you knew of us. Most hospitals and doctors would contact authorities immediately upon seeing injuries such as she sustained. But perhaps you should think twice about whatever trouble you've landed her unwillingly into." The doctor's eyes were cold.

Severus nodded, lowering his eyes. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room for a few moments before Severus lifted his eyes again. "Thank you, very much. I appreciate your time." He said. He rose from his seat, moving around the desk and towards the door. The doctor stayed where he was. Severus turned to him, one hand on the frame of the door, a questioning look on his face.

"We haven't discussed her treatment after I leave." The doctor's face was impassive. He watched Severus with calculating eyes.

"Did we not?" Severus asked, surprise in his voice. One hand twitched slightly, and though the doctor could not see, Severus' wand fell into the palm of his hand. He let it slide out of his sleeve, grasping it in his fingers. The doctor didn't notice. A scowl forming on his face, Severus lifted his wand, pointing it at the doctor's face. "_Avada Kedavra._"

The doctor slumped lifeless in the chair as a flash of green light blazed in the room, and an intense sound filled the air for only seconds, as if some invisible force had disturbed the energy within the room. Severus laughed at the look of confusion that remained on the doctor's face. Without so much as a backward glance, Severus swept out of the room, snapping his fingers once. Instantly two men who had been standing silently down the hall began to move toward the room. They entered and began to move the doctor's corpse from the chair and from the house.


	3. Grievance

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer:** My name is not JK Rowling therefore these characters are not mine. 

**Author's Note:** I had a fit of inspiration, so I had to sate the need to continue this.

* * *

Chapter Three  
_Grievance_

A week had passed since the initial disappearance of Hermione Granger. The Order of the Phoenix wasted no time in attempting to find her, but their search thus far had turned up nothing useful. Not wanting to cause great alarm, the ministry refrained from publishing anything on her disappearance in the newspaper. All leads were found through careful prying and interrogation of known Death Eaters brought in for questioning for various reasons. The lack of progress was expected but not welcome. For Ron Weasley, it was torture.

It had been two years since his graduation from Hogwarts; two years since he had confessed his feelings for Hermione. They had developed affection for one another that went beyond merely friendship. Marriage had been mentioned, quite often in the previous months. It was no surprise to anyone who had grown up with the two at Hogwarts. The constant tension that had caused fights and disagreements when they were younger had been caused by an unspoken attraction between the two. That tension had faded, not completely but mostly, and had been replaced by a sweet understanding.

The sudden separation from the woman he loved was driving Ron mad. He couldn't sleep at night, and found that even food had lost its appeal for him. The few hours he was able to sleep were plagued by dreams in which Hermione lay broken and bleeding in a dark room. She would sometimes speak to him, but only briefly. She was always accompanied by a certain smell, but he couldn't place it. He knew it was some kind of flower, but the name escaped him when he tried to remember. She was always sad, touching him softly and telling him she would be fine, that he needn't worry. But she was always crying.

When Ginny Weasley walked up the steps to her brother's room at the Burrow she expected for him to be as he had been most days the past week, and she was right. He sat lethargically on his bed, pale faced and trembling. With a soft sigh, Ginny made her way through the room towards him, sitting gently on the bed beside Ron. She touched his hands. He was cold. He barely glanced at her, his eyes instead being fixed on a photograph of himself and Hermione that sat on a dresser across from him. They were both smiling and laughing. Ginny watched as Hermione threw her arms around Ron and kissed him on the mouth. She had to look away as tears blurred the sight.

"Ron." Ginny said softly. He made no notice that he heard her. She put a hand on his shoulder, the other on his face, trying to turn his head to look at her. He did sharply and she moved away from him at his sudden movement. His eyes were filled with sorrow and something Ginny couldn't quite place.

"What do you want?" Ron demanded harshly. Ginny blinked, placing her hands in her lap, looking at the floor.

"Mum wanted me to tell you she made you some food." Her voice was barely a whisper, but his response was evidence enough that he had heard her.

"I don't want it. Until Hermione's sitting at that table with me, I don't want anything!" Ron nearly shouted, his hands clenched in fists. Ginny flinched at the anguish mixed with rage in his voice. She contemplated saying more, but merely nodded her acknowledgment of his words and stood. She glanced at her brother as she walked from the room to see him hunched over, elbows on his thighs, face buried in his hands. He was crying, and as she closed to door behind her, she heard him whisper Hermione's name.

* * *

His footsteps echoed through the hall as Draco Malfoy walked. He stopped before a tall wooden door, lifting his fist to rap on the wood with his knuckles. The door however, opened of its own accord. It made no noise as it swung on its hinges to reveal a room filled with the flickering light of candles. He stepped into the room, glancing around him. It was large, but bare. There were several wooden seats to his left, beside an indentation in the wall that resembled a window, but there was only more stone wall, and to his right there was a single wooden chair beside a wooden table. A man sat in the chair, one arm resting on the tabletop, the other resting across his stomach. As Draco neared him, the man, Severus Snape, inclined his head slightly. 

Draco dipped his head in greeting. It was obvious from the lack of a second chair that Snape wished for Draco to stand, knowing this, Draco pulled his wand from a pocket on the inside of his jacket. "_Accio_ chair." He said, with a pointed look at Snape. The chair slid noisily from one side of the room to the other, stopping directly beside Draco. With a satisfied smile, he replaced his wand in his pocket. "Good afternoon, Professor." Draco said amiably as he seated himself.

Snape glared at him, pursing his lips in annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell you to not call me Professor, Draco?" He asked. Draco shrugged.

"I guess as many times as it takes me to stop saying it, Professor." He answered, a smirk on his face. Snape's eyes darkened with irritation. Draco pretended he didn't notice. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice, asking "You called me here for a reason?"

"Yes, Draco. I heard of your little run in with the Dark Lord." Snape said. Draco sat upright and nodded.

"Yes, and I'm sure you also heard that I took care of it immediately." Draco replied, leaning back against the chair, slouching slightly and crossing his ankles. He appeared bored.

"I heard something of the sort, but wasn't informed on what it is you initially did not want to do. Care to explain?" Snape inquired, curious. Draco raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening.

"You mean He didn't tell you, Professor? Why, I thought you were within his inner circle, that you knew all his _dirty_ little secrets." Draco drawled, his words slightly taunting. Snape was not amused. His hand on the tabletop tightened into a fist.

"You insolent boy, you'd do well to mind your tongue," Snape began, but Draco laughed causing him to stop.

"Professor, there's no need to become angry. I was merely joking. The Dark Lord asked me to locate a family connected with the Order and eliminate them. I had a moment of misdirection, but it's been taken care of." Draco said, the smirk gone from his face.

"I see."

"But, we both know that isn't why you called me here, Professor." Draco said, reminding Snape of the reason he had come. Snape nodded, taking a deep breath. When he looked at Draco, his eyes glinted with excitement. It surprised Draco.

"I have something to show you." Snape said quickly, rising to his feet. Draco frowned, wondering what it is that Severus Snape could possibly be so excited about. Almost reluctantly Draco rose to his feet and followed. It didn't take him long to catch up to Snape as they walked, but it took quite some time for them to reach their destination. They were in a series of stone tunnels that ran slightly under ground. It reminded Draco of the Slytherin dungeons. Perhaps that was why Snape had chosen it, in the first place, as a residence. It still baffled Draco as to why it was located in a Muggle town.

They walked in relative silence, with only small conversation peaking here and there. Snape halted before a door, turned to Draco and smiled. The sight made Draco flinch. There was something disconcertingly wrong about the way Snape's face twisted when he smiled. He didn't have long to dwell on that observation though, because Snape let out a small noise, placing a hand on the door's rusted handle. He still didn't speak, but opened the door quickly. The room was dark, but Draco saw that on the wall directly opposite them there was a small window through which he could dimly see a line of trees far away. It appeared that the window was level with the grass outside the building, which meant this room was only partially beneath the ground.

It took him a moment to register the crumpled figure that lay beneath the window and when he did register it, it took him longer to recognize it as a person. He frowned, taking in the torn, dirty clothes that clung to a bruised and battered body. Thick, curly hair obscured the face of what appeared to be a woman; the hair was matted and tangled in places. A slender hand lay on the stone floor, one finger protruding at an odd angle. Draco turned to Snape, who was watching him.

"Who is this?" Draco asked. Snape smiled at him again. There was the sound of movement behind him and Draco turned to see the woman move, but a tortured groan escaped from her, as if it hurt too badly to move. One hand did continue to move though, to push the tangled mess of hair away from her face and Draco blinked in surprise. "Hermione Granger?" he asked. There was no mistaking that it was her. Though her jaw was badly bruised and swollen, with dry blood splotching her skin in various places. Her eyelids lowered as if it took too much effort to keep them open, her lips parting as she exhaled deeply. He was overcome with a strong sense of pity as he carefully studied her.

"My own little assignment from our Lord." Snape said softly. Draco turned to him, quickly making the frown that had marred his features disappear. "Isn't it lovely to see her so _broken_?" He asked, chuckling softly. Draco couldn't help the twinge of disgust that hit him.

"Indeed. Why are you showing me this?" Draco questioned, biting back the urge to flee from the room. He began to notice a certain smell rising from the heap that was Hermione Granger. It was far from pleasant.

"In another two weeks I'll be needed elsewhere, to take care of some other unfinished business. I need someone I can trust here, to watch her." Snape said, motioning with his head to Hermione. Draco nodded his understanding. "So it's settled then? You'll be here in two weeks?" He didn't wait for an answer, ushering Draco from the room and into the hall. He closed the door behind them, not bothering to lock it. Why should he? There was no way Hermione would be getting up and walking anywhere any time soon.


	4. Distraction

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer:** do I even need to say it? Don't own. 

**Author's Note:** I don't like Draco/Hermione stories that jump to them right away. Give it time. If Draco seems out of character…I figure, if he's with a significant other that he's been with for some time, he's bound to be nice to _her,_ right?

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Chapter Four  
_Distraction_

Nearly a week later, Hermione Granger was unceremoniously woken when a bucket of ice-cold water was dumped onto her sleeping form. She jolted from her slumped position, yelping at the shock. She huddled near the wall, shivering, trying to preserve her body warmth. Blinking at the water running down her face and into her eyes, she looked up to see a man she had yet to see before watching her, the bucket dangling at his side. For a split moment she was confused, seeing a shock of red hair atop his blurry head. "Ron?" She whispered.

She blinked once more and his features became clear. With a troubled sigh, Hermione averted her eyes, shivering fiercely. The man came closer, dropped the bucket and said something curtly in a language she didn't understand. She didn't turn to look at him, instead just stared at the ground. The man said something more, but when she didn't respond he spit in her direction, turning on his heel. The door slammed behind him, the loud resounding crash causing Hermione to flinch. She moved slightly, her leg shooting out and hitting the bucket. It rolled noisily across the room.

Hermione studied the bucket for nearly a full minute, contemplating all the reasons why it would have been left in the room with her and could not come up with one plausible reason as to why. She pushed herself up off the floor, her body still aching slightly. She had yet to be beaten as severely as she had the first week she had arrived, though her jaw was still sore, and a few of her fingers were definitely broken. She'd attempted to form a makeshift splint, but having nothing solid she'd merely decided to rip strips off her shirt and tie the fingers to one of it's neighbors. She had no idea if it was helping, but it helped ease her mind that she was at least doing something.

Circling the bucket, Hermione trembled from the chill that sank into her skin from the wet clothes sticking to her. One hand rose to push her ratty, damp hair out of her face, but her index finger hit her forehead harder than expected and she swore as the injured finger began to throb. Breathing deeply, Hermione closed her eyes willing the pain to dissipate. Once it had subsided to a dull discomfort, she resumed watching the bucket. It was as if she expected it to sprout legs and walk, or explode and kill her. Nudging it with her toe, she made a face at the coolness of the metal. It wasn't that much different than the icy stone floor, but it had felt more severe.

Biting her lip, Hermione turned her attention to her feet. Her toes were freezing and the bottoms of her feet burned with the cold. She couldn't remember what day they had come and taken her shoes. It had been difficult for them, because on that day in particular she had been rather upset. The previous day they had deliberately broken her left middle finger in an attempt to get her to answer a question concerning the whereabouts of the Order. She had refused. They had broken a finger. When they had come for her shoes she had spat at them, yelled at them, attempted to fight back, even in her severely weakened condition, and had done a hell of a time until a full body bind was administered.

The days had passed in alternating patterns. Some days Hermione was listless and put up no fight. These days she was generally interrogated for information on the order. She always refused, and they found some way to punish her. It usually involved the Cruciatus. On the days that she was stronger, more inclined to fight back: they beat her. But the beatings had become less brutal until eventually she was merely interrogated. Every day they left without gaining any information from her. That was how it would stay.

Wiggling her toes, Hermione plucked at her soiled shirt with one hand. With a sigh, she sat back on the floor, still eyeing the bucket warily. Could it really just be a harmless inanimate object? After perhaps twenty minutes, she decided that it must be. Crawling forward, on her hands and knees, she grabbed the handle of the bucket and brought it with her near the wall. She placed it upside down, and rested her feet on the upraised bottom of it, leaning against the wall. Her eyes traveled around the room out of boredom and stopped on the window. It was too high for her to look out of it properly, but perhaps with this bucket, she could.

She rose to her feet, ignoring the stab of cold that hit the bottom of her feet, bending to grasp the bucket's handle in one hand. She moved slowly to the window; there was no need to rush. Setting the bucket down, she gingerly put one foot on it, testing to see if it would hold her weight. When it appeared that it would, she lifted her other foot, her head rising until it was level with the bottom of the window. There was no glass, there were bars, but that didn't matter to Hermione. She reached a hand through and touched the wet grass, a smile touching her lips for the first time in weeks.

* * *

"Why don't you come back to bed?" The placid voice of Isabelle Dubois asked softly, resting on the weight of her arm as she lay in the silken sheets of Draco Malfoy's bed. She was watching Draco pace back and forth near the door, lacking a shirt, a disturbed look on his face. He seemed completely unaware of the fact that there was a beautiful woman lounging in his bed, obviously waiting for him. And not just any woman, but the daughter of a very high ranking Death Eater, was lying naked between his sheets. And not just any daughter of a Death Eater, but the woman he was engaged to and had been dating for more than two years. "Draco?" Isabelle tried again, her pale blue-green eyes watching him carefully. He glanced at her and stopped pacing. 

"Iz, I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind right now." Draco said shortly. Isabelle shrugged before letting her weight fall onto the bed. She stared at the ceiling for a moment then turned onto her side. Her eyes watched as Draco began to pace again. Her face bore no signs of irritation, just curiosity.

"Well, love, care to share your troubles?" Isabelle asked, running a hand through her long honey-gold hair. She pushed herself up, letting the sheet fall off of her. She got to her feet languidly, grabbing a short, black nightdress that lay nearby. She slipped it on over her head before joining Draco near the door. "Come now, darling, tell me what's kept your thoughts from me so frequently these past weeks." She murmured, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his bare shoulder.

Draco sighed, wrapping his arms around her as well. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "It'd be better if you didn't know, Isabelle." He whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek. He moved away from her and she narrowed her eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, crossing her arms. "What have you done, Draco?" She demanded.

"I've done nothing." He said, his voice so low she could barely hear it. Isabelle leaned forward slightly, trying to catch the words and then pulled back, a confused expression on her face.

"What is going on with you?" She asked again, her voice rising slightly. Draco gave her a pleading look before turning quickly and leaving the room. Isabelle blinked in surprise. Without so much as a second thought she quickly followed him, grabbing him on his arm just above the elbow. He turned to her, and they stood that way, just outside his door, her staring into his eyes searchingly and him doing a poor job of masking the uncertainty in his eyes. "You're leaving me, aren't you?" Isabelle said suddenly, her voice small and frail.

It was Draco's turn to be surprised. His mouth opened slightly, and he laughed, but stopped immediately when Isabelle's already crestfallen face became even more hurt. There were tears forming in her eyes. She let go of his arm and stepped away from him, one hand rising to her throat. "I mean, you've been distant for weeks, maybe even months. Your thoughts are always elsewhere…" she began saying, but Draco shook his head.

"No, Iz, you've got it all wrong. That's not it at all." He said, reaching for her with one hand. She shied away, confusion still written across her face, wiping at the tears that fell onto her cheeks.

"Have I?" She asked.

"Yes. Isabelle Claire Dubois, do you really think I would be leaving you?" Draco asked, grabbing her arms, and pulling her along with him into the bedroom. She looked down at the floor, saying nothing. He stopped when they were beside the bed, lifted a hand and brushed her hair away from her face. She looked up at him, her eyes still filled with tears. "That would be the stupidest mistake of my life." Draco said, pulling her closer to him. He kissed her tenderly on the lips, then let his lips trail kisses down her neck and to her chest.

Isabelle pulled away, giving him a questioning look. "Then what is it? What's been bothering you?" She nearly begged. He shook his head.

"It's nothing you should worry about." He murmured, kissing her again, and pushing her down onto the bed.


	5. Domination

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer: **Must I? 

**Author's Note:** I'm disappointed that I had this partially written when my computer shut down on me and deleted it. Bummer. Hope you like this version, especially _Max Ride Fan 13_, who seems to be my most loyal fan.

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Chapter Five  
_Domination_

For two whole days Hermione Granger had been listening to the songs of the birds that resided in the nearby forests and had been practicing their calls. She would plaintively perch on the top of the bucket, one hand grasping an iron bar as she peered out into the living world. She would imitate the birds as best she could, and so far had succeeded in luring none close to her. However, several times Hermione had glimpsed a small bird sitting on low branch of a nearby tree. She couldn't be certain that it was the same bird each time, but it certainly was of the same species. She had convinced herself that it was merely a coincidence.

So, it came as a complete surprise that a bird such as the one she had seen would land itself no more than five feet from the hand she had resting in the itchy grass. Immediately Hermione ceased her calls, biting her lip in excitement as the bird hopped closer. It tilted its light grey head, stretching its dark slate-blue wings, and hopped closer. Hermione's attention was so focused on the bird that she did not see the cat stalking it from behind a bush to her left. Silently Hermione willed the bird to come closer, and it did, stopping suddenly when one of her fingers twitched. Its head tilted one way and then the other. Hermione couldn't stop her smile from growing wider on her face.

"Come on little one." Hermione whispered, instantly regretting it when the bird beat it's wings and lifted into the air. It seemed to change its mind suddenly though, for it landed only a few feet back from where it had been. Hermione watched with hope that it would come forward again, when quite suddenly she gasped, jolting away from the window. One of her feet slipped from the bucket and she started to fall backwards, her hand on the bar slipping. She landed on her ankle wrong and swore at the sudden pain that shot through her leg, and then from her hip as she landed on the hard stone.

Disregarding the pain, she was on her feet instantly, hopping onto the bucket unsteadily on her good ankle and grabbing hold of the bars with both hands to steady herself. She watched with horror as the grey tabby viciously shook the bird in its jaw. Tears formed in Hermione's eyes and she felt a sob rising in her throat. The cat stopped moving, the bird beat one wing in a feeble attempt to free itself, and the green eyes of the predator locked on Hermione's. With a defeated sigh, Hermione looked away and climbed off the bucket. Tears were still running down her face.

In that moment it felt as if every hurt she had suffered over the past few weeks, and during the entire war, hit her at once. A terrible pain ravaged her body, and she sank to the floor, her back against the wall. Sobs shook her, resounding off the stone walls as she cried. She closed her eyes tightly, and the face of every person she loved seemed to imprint themselves on the backs of her eyelids. A pair of blue eyes stared at her pleadingly and Hermione wrenched her eyes open, gasping for breath.

"No. Please, no." She begged, her hands on her face. She clenched one into a fist, slamming it onto the floor, barely wincing at the pain. Her other hand remained firmly pressed against her temple, her cold palm gathering warmth from the contact. Blindly she looked around the room, searching for something, anything and found nothing. She felt as if her chest was constricting, that she couldn't breathe and gasped for air gracelessly. A scream tore from her lips, a harsh, savage cry that seemed to shatter the very air around her, and she pounded her fist on the ground repeatedly speaking through her screams and sobs incoherently.

She felt hands on her then, holding her back against the wall. She fought against them, clawing with broken fingers and dirty nails at their faces. She heard voices, strong voices that she couldn't understand, but then there was one voice that she did understand. The recognition was perhaps what stopped her, or that her first name was used softly, almost gently. She fell limply back, her chest heaving as she continued to sob, though not quite so violently. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall to the side so that her chin touched her shoulder. The hands released her. She heard their footsteps walking away. She heard the door close and lock. Hermione let her body fall to the floor, until she was lying, curling into herself as she cried.

* * *

"I don't agree with the way you're handling her." It was Isabelle Dubois who spoke, firmly. Draco Malfoy stood at her side, his own face showing the displeasure that had registered upon first seeing Hermione. Having arrived earlier that day, Draco was curious to see how Hermione had progressed since his last visit. Snape gave him leave to see for himself, and then left to his private study for the evening. Her own curiosity getting the better of her, Isabelle had joined Draco. They were nearly to Hermione's room when they heard the sobs issuing from within it. It was when the first savage sounding howl assailed their ears that Draco hurried his pace, giving orders for the men with him to restrain Hermione if it was necessary. 

It had proved necessary. Hermione was hardly recognizable in her disheveled state. What little he caught of the jumble she was speaking through her cries and sobs made little sense. He had caught Harry and Ron's name several times before she started violently fighting against the men that were trying to hold her until she had calmed. Glancing at Isabelle, Draco had seen the absolute horror in his girlfriend's eyes. Stepping forward Draco had tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, dropping to his knees and risking being attacked by her clawing hands. "Hermione, you've got to calm down now. Everything will be fine."

He had been surprised when she did go still, her hands falling limply at her side. He had stood staring at her for several moments before he felt Isabelle's hand on his arm, pulling him away. "Come on, love. We've seen enough." She whispered in his ear. He nodded, his eyes still locked on Hermione.

Now they stood in Snape's study. Draco had intended to be the first to voice his opinion on the matter, but Isabelle had taken it upon herself to beat him to it. She faced Snape with a certain courage that only could have come with having a father as high ranking as hers was in Voldemort's inner circle. Isabelle glared at Snape, her arms folded. "I understand that in this war very little that we do is civilized, but you've had the girl for nearly three weeks and she's been locked away without proper care. Have you even given a thought to the task she's supposed to undergo in a few months time?" Isabelle demanded angrily. Draco stared at her in surprise. He didn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about. It should have bothered him, but it didn't.

It was apparent that Snape did, however, know exactly what she meant. He licked his lips before he spoke, and when he did his voice was deadly. "You silly girl. How dare you come into my home and presume to tell me how to treat a prisoner of mine. Of course I've given thought to her task, but she has more than enough time to recover before then."

"Yes, she may. But I still don't think the Dark Lord would be pleased to know how you've been treating her. She is not _your_ toy, Severus." Isabelle said darkly. Draco was impressed with the authority she carried in her voice. If it had been any other woman, Draco would have found her manner to be disgraceful, but to see _his_ woman command a man such as Severus Snape with such authority made him proud in an odd sort of way.

"Miss Dubois, I wasn't aware that you had any idea of what would please or displease our Lord." Snape said, his voice like acid. Isabelle leveled him with a glare.

"You know very little then, _Sir_." She said with a mocking smile. Isabelle walked forward until she was directly in front of the desk Snape sat behind. She leaned forward, her palms resting on the wood. "If you don't provide better quarters for her while she's here I will see to it that you are _made_ to." Isabelle stared into his eyes for several moments before she lowered her chin, smirked and straightened.

"Now that's been settled, why don't we all have lunch?" Draco said in a friendly tone. Snape sent him a look that should have withered him in his spot, but Draco had never been fond of cowering before Snape. Isabelle shot him a winning smile and extended her hand to him. He took it, raising it to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "Shall we?"


	6. Appeasement

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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Disclaimer: I own over 300 books, including copies of all seven books in the Harry Potter series, but the rights to them I do not own. 

Author's Note: One thing I don't think any of you have to worry about is my not updating. I get ideas and can't rest until they're out of me.

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Chapter Six  
_Appeasement_

"You want me to do _what_ with her?" The man asked incredulously. Hermione Granger watched the exchange between an extremely irate Severus Snape and a man she had never seen before. After being unceremoniously dragged from her small stone room, through a long hall and up a treacherous, at least to her on a damaged ankle, set of stairs, she was now seated in a very plain and boring study, extremely aware of the fact that she was producing a rather foul stench. It had, in fact, been over two weeks since she had last bathed. Having been living in the same small room for that amount of time, she had become used to the smell, but now that she was in an airy setting, it was slightly overwhelming.

"I would like you to bathe her." Snape said slowly, enunciating each word clearly and properly. "She's filthy and I've been informed that she's no longer to be treated with such inhospitably. She's to live among us." Snape said, making a face that suggested the words left a very bad taste in his mouth. Hermione's eyes widened at this. She leaned forward slightly, but lost her balance and almost fell face first into the floor. Snape shot her a look of disgust.

"Sir, she is not well enough to bathe herself?" The man asked. Snape's laugh sounded more like a snort and he turned to Hermione.

"I'm surrounded by incompetent fools." He said to her, quite affably, before glowering at her, and turning back to the man who he regarded with clear disdain. "Not physically, you imbecile. I would like you to sit with her, watch her, help her if she is unable to do so herself. It appears she still is somewhat injured in spots." He continued as if she wasn't even in the room. The man glanced at Hermione apprehensively, taking in her dirty appearance. It was obvious he was not looking forward to his task.

"Yes sir."

* * *

The water in the bath was so hot that it burned her skin when Hermione dipped her foot into it, and she pulled back sharply her breath hissing in a sharp intake. Then she tried again, and kept her foot in the heat until she was used to it, then decided that it would take her far to long if she allowed her body time to adjust and quickly climbed over the edge of the tub, sinking into the water. It took her several moments to steady her breathing, her chest heaving in the water. But then the warmth spread through her entire body and she sighed in relief as she began to relax. She leaned back, her head resting on the edge of the tub, her eyes closed. 

A soft noise to her left brought her to attention, and she realized that she was not alone. She had allowed herself to forget the man's presence. Her eyes flew open and she glared at him. He did not turn away. She felt her face grow red under his eyes and she tried to shift her body so that he could not see her nakedness. It didn't work very well. He smirked at her; she glared back. She wasn't afraid that he would force himself on her, for no one had touched her sexually for the entire time she had been in that room. She figured it had something to do with her dirty blood. They were Purebloods following Voldemort's cause, after all, and they didn't want to sully themselves on something so impure as a Mudblood.

It didn't take long for Hermione to feel uncomfortable with the cleanliness of the water. She pulled the plug as she turned the faucet back on, deciding that she would rather wash herself with a shower now, as the bath water was murky with dirt. There were curtains to be drawn around the shower, but they were simply made of clear plastic behind a sheer pale green. They did little to hide her from the man's prying eyes. He may not want to sully himself by physically touching, but she doubted that his mind wasn't playing with fantasies involving her about now. She turned away from him, her thoughts drifting to other things as she washed her hair and body.

Sadness tugged at her heart as they turned to Ron Weasley. She missed him terribly. Nearly every night she had dreamt of him, tried to soothe his pain at her being lost. The past few nights she had woken in a sweat, her heart racing, and a terrible dread hanging over her head. The dreams had begun the night before she had witnessed the cat kill the bird. They had only gotten worse in the four days since. She desperately wanted to see Ron, more so than anyone else. She wanted to feel his arms around her. She couldn't help it now, as tears slid down her face. A sob ripped free from her throat brutally, and she reached a hand out to steady herself on something, but all she grasped was air.

Already unsteady on her hurt ankle, Hermione lost her balance and slipped on the wet tub. She cried out as she slammed into the ceramic. Her head hit rather hard on the edge and her vision swam. There was some noise as the man hurried to her, trying to lift her limp body. She blinked, trying to see through the pain. The man's arms left her, and she was left alone in the room for some time. It was far too bright for her suddenly and she felt sick to her stomach. She felt the bile rise in her throat but then she felt lighter. She felt better.

Hermione opened her eyes to see a woman standing before her, a wand pointed directly in her face. She jumped slightly, her eyes wide with fear. Who was this woman? The woman seemed to be inspecting her, but she was lowering her wand. A hand was extended to Hermione, which she gratefully grasped and was helped to her feet. The woman held a towel out to her, which Hermione wrapped graciously around her wet body.

"My name is Isabelle, I've mended the wounds to your head with a spell. Are you hurt anywhere else that needs healing?" The woman inquired. Hermione wasn't sure how to answer. She didn't trust this woman. Though her words were kind, there was something behind this woman's eyes that made Hermione mistrust her. "I apologize for the way you've been treated so far, Hermione." The woman said, her voice soothing, but it made Hermione feel wary.

"Please don't call me that." Hermione said, her voice more hoarse than she had thought it would be. The woman looked surprised, but nodded her head. "Where am I?" She asked, watching the woman carefully.

"Germany." The woman said. Hermione doubted she was telling the truth, but decided that it was better than receiving an answer like, 'I can't tell you that.' "We have a bedroom set up for you, if you'd like to go rest. There are some clothes you can wear, if you'd like." The woman seemed too polite as if she had rehearsed everything she wanted to say in advance.

"Yes, I would." The woman smiled at Hermione, but instead of feeling at ease, she had a nervous tinge begin to grow in the pit of her stomach. She followed the woman in silence, still clutching the bath towel around her body. The room wasn't very far down the hall, for which Hermione was grateful, and when they entered it was not very large. There was, however, a nice sized bed that looked quite comfortable in the middle of the room. There was also a small bookshelf filled with books near a window, and beside that a desk and chair. Hermione noted these things silently.

"Your door will be locked at all times. The window has a charm on it to prevent you from attempting any form of escape through it, though it will open. There is a bathroom through that door that you may use as you wish. Your meals will be provided several times a day, though you will be eating them here, alone." The woman explained. She paused watching Hermione as though expecting her to respond in some way, when no response came, she continued, "Once a day you will be escorted downstairs to a garden. You will be allowed fifteen minutes to a half hour of supervised freedom depending on how you behave."

"Freedom, you say?" Hermione laughed slightly. The sound seemed to offend the woman.

"There are clothes in the closet, simple basic shirts, pants and skirts. Your meal will be arriving shortly. I'll send someone to check on you later." The woman said in that all too polite voice. Hermione said nothing, though she let the towel drop. The woman made a small noise and looked away as Hermione made her way to the closet. The door opened easily, though her grip on the handle and the force she used was a bit excessive. When Hermione let go of the handle, the door slammed into the wall. She made a small shrug of her shoulder as apology.

She emerged from the closet a moment later with a simple black skirt that fell to her knees, and a generic dark green t-shirt that looked one size too large. All together the look was unflattering, when matched with her still wet, still tangled hair and bruised face. Her feet were still bare, but Hermione didn't mind much. They were much warmer here than they had been before. She put one hand out toward the woman.

"Some of my fingers were broken, on both hands. I'd like them fixed please. My ankle as well." She said. The woman immediately brought out her wand and pointed them at Hermione, muttering more healing spells. Hermione stepped down fully on her ankle and was pleased to note that the pain had disappeared completely. She didn't say thank you. These people didn't deserve her gratitude. The woman left shortly after, leaving Hermione alone. She sat on the bed and stared at the wall until a man came and brought her food. She did not touch it; she merely sat and did not move.


	7. Cataclysm

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer: **No, still, not mine. 

**Author's Note:** There was some mix up with the chapter numbers… if anyone noticed? I fixed that. It was the result of writing Chapter Three and deciding that I wanted to add chapters before it, and so on.

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Chapter Seven  
_Cataclysm_

A loud pounding woke Ron Weasley from his troubled sleep. He sat up abruptly, looking warily in the direction of the front room. A week before, he had moved from the Burrow, to a small apartment near Harry. Few visitors had come to see him besides his family and Harry. The pounding became more urgent and Ron sought out the wand that lay on his bedside table. Cautiously, he made his way through the open door of his bedroom into the room.

"Ronald Weasley open this door now!" The shrill shriek he recognized as his sister's came through the heavy wood. Frowning, Ron sped up, throwing the door open. His sister was standing there, wide eyed and trembling. Behind her stood Harry and several other members of the Order.

"What's happened?" Ron demanded, stepping aside so they could enter. Ginny opened her mouth but then shook her head quickly, waving a hand behind her at Harry.

"We've got a reliable tip about Hermione's whereabouts. It came in several days ago and we didn't want to tell you until we knew for sure it checked out." Harry said in a rush, his face pale. He looked sick. Ron felt as though he had been hit in the chest heavily.

"You've found her?" He breathed.

"We believe so. We've assembled a group to get her tonight." Harry explained. Ron's heart began beating faster. He nodded his head over and over.

"Yes. Yes, we'll get her back tonight."

* * *

A loud crash sounded outside of the room Draco Malfoy and Isabelle Dubois were sleeping in. Isabelle immediately jolted upright, her eyes wide. Draco rose at a more leisurely pace, but when they both heard shouting outside their door, they were on their feet in an instant, their wands in their hands. Draco reached the door first and turned to Isabelle saying, "Stay behind me. I know you're more than capable of protecting yourself, but please?" She nodded in response. 

When they entered the hall the first thing they saw was a lifeless body lying some ten feet to their left, but it was someone neither of them recognized. Draco glanced at Isabelle to see her holding a hand to her chest, a shocked look on her face. "The Order?" She whispered. There was a small flash of something across Draco's face, but she didn't notice it, and he managed to hide it quickly.

"Check on Hermione." He said firmly before walking briskly in the direction of the shouting. It took him several minutes to reach the origin, and when he did he found more than one of the guards unconscious. Spells were being shouted and shot in every direction and he ducked behind the wall to avoid behind hit, but not before seeing Harry Potter. Cursing, Draco risked being hit and dodged from behind the wall shooting a curse in Harry's general, but not very well aimed, direction. Harry pivoted and pointed his wand at Draco, then with a grim face, turned it on someone else.

Breathing heavily, Draco stayed where he was, certain that he would be safe from fired spells in his current position. He was, however, wrong. Not paying attention, he hadn't seen Ron Weasley notice him, aim his wand and hit him with a disarming spell. Draco's wand flew from his hand, and he turned to face Ron warily. Ron's face was contorted with rage and he was saying something, but Draco couldn't hear him. Harry suddenly stood beside Ron, touching his arm, and drawing his attention away from Draco. In that time, Draco dove for his wand and took off down the hall he was in, but stopped short when he heard the room suddenly go quiet.

Turning around quickly, Draco almost lost his balance, but managed to stay on his feet. His surprise stopped his stride when he saw Hermione Granger standing with a wand held limply in her hand. Ron seemed beside himself, tears streaming down his face. The other members of the Order were staring at her with relief written on their faces. Draco's eyes were glued on Hermione. He was the only one who noticed what was wrong. The few remaining Death Eaters and guards had fled the room, and it was only the Order members and Draco watching as Hermione stepped forward slowly.

Her wand rose and with a smile that confused everyone in the room but Draco, she yelled, "_Avada Kedavra_!" keeping her wand aimed directly at Ron's chest. The flash of green light hurt Draco's eyes but in that instant, he scrambled for his wand, aiming it at Harry and yelling, "_Expelliarmus_," at the same instant that Hermione did, her wand aimed at another of the Order members. There were only four in the room, and the remaining standing member was Ginny Weasley whose eyes glinted with a violent rage.

Hermione pointed her wand at Ginny almost lazily, her smile widening. "Come to save me?" She asked, her voice full of mirth. Ginny moved toward Hermione her hands clenched in fists, glaring at her murderously. Harry seemed too shocked to do anything, and the other Order member was kneeling beside Ron's body. Draco watched them in silence. Hermione glanced at him, her wand still trained on Ginny. "Will _you_ check on her, now?" she asked. Draco narrowed his eyes. Without a word he walked stiffly past Hermione and the others, making his way to the room that the real Hermione Granger was sure to be found.

Hermione was asleep when he arrived, sleeping somewhat peacefully it seemed. He was careful not to make noise as he sat at the desk. He stared at the wood, his mind racing. Everything had gone incredibly wrong. When he had gone to Harry with the information of where Hermione was being kept, it was supposed to be an easy thing. The guards were supposed to have been elsewhere, and Draco had removed the spells on the room personally. Isabelle and he were supposed to come out unharmed, and yes, it did look as though that was the case, but no one was supposed to die. Or in any case, no one from the Order was supposed to die. Ron Weasley, especially, was not supposed to die.

It had taken careful planning on Draco's part to arrange all of this. He had spent weeks figuring out a way to infiltrate Snape's new home while at the same time playing the part of dutiful servant and boyfriend. Feeling sick to his stomach, Draco swallowed hard. He glanced at Hermione, shaking his head. Well aware of the fact that she and Ron had been an item, he felt something inside of him twitch. The door opening interrupted his thoughts and he turned to find a second Hermione standing in the doorway, her face dark with anger.

"We have a traitor amongst us, Draco. I am determined to find out whom." She spat out. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't let that relief show on his face. "I left them with their friend, telling them they had ten minutes to remove him and themselves. Their wands will be owled to them in three days." She said, throwing four wands onto the floor.

"That was kind of you." Draco said blandly. Hermione shot him an irritated look.

"Yes, well, I already killed one of them. You know how I feel about death." She said in an agitated voice. Her eyes were locked on the sleeping Hermione. "Get her up. We're leaving Germany tonight."

* * *

Hermione was being roughly dragged out of her room. The men wore masks and large hooded black robes. At first she fought them, but eventually gave in. They did not speak to her. Hermione was led through the house and out into the cold air. The shock of the sudden temperature change caused her to gasp. Instantly she began shivering and inwardly cursed the men for not having grabbed a jacket for her to wear. They continued to usher her forward until quite suddenly Hermione felt a jerking sensation in the pit of her stomach and felt sick. Everything around her seemed to blur and fade, so she closed her eyes tightly, until she lost her balance and pitched forward. 

She landed on a hard surface on her hands and knees but was pulled up again, roughly. She opened her eyes quickly, still feeling nauseous. She was now outside of a formidable looking large home. It was dark inside, and battered looking on the outside. The whole look was quite terrifying to Hermione. She was pulled forward, through the yard and through the front door. Once inside, she was shoved forward instead of pulled while one man led her down a dark hallway. They climbed a set of stairs and continued down a second hall before stopping in front of a door that appeared to be dark green. It was hard to tell in the dim light from a man's wand behind her that illuminated their way.

Hermione stood dumbly before the door until she was shoved again. She touched the handle with a shaking hand and turned it, pushing the door open. She was shoved forward again, and the door was slammed shut behind her. In the darkness, Hermione fumbled around until she found what felt like a bed. Shaking, she climbed onto it and sat there waiting. The amount of time that passed seemed like hours to Hermione, but it was really only fifteen minutes. The door opened surprising her and she jumped. Instantly the room was brightly lit. She blinked against the sudden brightness.

Standing in the doorway was Draco Malfoy. Hermione watched him apprehensively. He stepped inside the door and closed it behind him. She noticed that he was carrying what seemed to be some form of clothing in his left hand. He tossed it at the bed and it landed near her. Glancing down she realized it was a sweater. Her fingers trembled as she grasped it and slid it on. Her eyes never left Draco. He seemed nervous.

"I just wanted to tell you before you heard from anyone else here that your friends attempted to rescue you tonight." His voice was low. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Are they alright?" she asked hurriedly, her body leaning forward. Draco stared into her eyes for a moment before looking away. She felt a crushing blow, as she knew the answer. "Who?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Ron Weasley."

Hermione blinked at the tears that swelled in her eyes. A hand rose to her face, covering her mouth and her nose. She shook her head in disbelief. "No, no, no that's not possible." She was saying. Draco watched her carefully, saying nothing. She stared at him, her eyes begging him to say he was lying. A sob left her, and her entire body began to shake. She bent forward, until she was nearly lying on the bed and cried. When she felt the bed move slightly at the weight of another sitting beside her, and when she felt strong arms pulling her back into a sitting position, she instinctively sank into the embrace. Instantly however she pulled rapidly back.

"Don't touch me! Get away from me!" She screamed. Scrambling away from him, Hermione fell off the bed. Rising to her feet, she continued to scream. Draco rose to his feet as well and left the room, glancing back to see her crying, her arms wrapped around herself in some small semblance of self comfort. His heart went out to her. He had not meant for everything to go so wrong.

* * *

The sound of Ginny sobbing filled the Burrow. Harry stood beside her, tears streaming down his face. Molly Weasley was uncharacteristically quiet, her face white. Her husband, Arthur was seated to her right on the couch, his face buried in his hands as he sobbed quietly. Molly made a strangled sound, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She looked at Harry almost pleadingly. Tears began to fall onto her cheeks and then she broke down and was sobbing just as loudly as her daughter. Arthur lifted his head and wrapped his arms around her. They clung to one another as they wept. 

Harry placed a comforting hand on Ginny's arm but didn't keep it there for long. He squeezed his eyes shut as his body shuddered. Needing air, he turned on his heel and left the house. He stood outside gasping for air. The coldness of it burned his lungs but he seemed to relish in it. He was crying hard now, almost as hard as Ginny. The door opened behind him, but he was crying too hard to turn and see whom it was. Small arms touched him, turning him. Ginny stood there, her eyes red, her face wet, her entire demeanor crushed. "Harry… that wasn't her. It couldn't have been." She whispered, her eyes holding a haunted look. Harry reached for her, embracing her tightly.

"I know. I know." He murmured into her hair. They cried together, both over the death of the man they loved dearly, and for the fact that he died thinking the one person he loved most in the world had killed him.


	8. Repercussions

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer: **Harry, Ron and Hermione sleep with me every night (in the form of a wonderfully soft blanket) but, I still don't own _them_ the way JK Rowling does. Sucks! 

**Author's Note: **This chapter was originally titled: _Ally_, but I was displeased with it and have edited it.

* * *

Chapter Eight  
_Repercussions_

Hermione Granger's eyes were closed, but she could feel the warm rays of the sun hitting her. She smiled at the touch. It had been so long since she had felt this warm. Even the breeze that hit her skin brought warmth with it. She opened her eyes and stared up at the bright blue sky above her. There were no clouds today, and for that she was slightly disappointed. As a child she had loved to lie back and make shapes out of the white clouds above her. At a time such as this, it would have brought her great comfort. With a sigh, Hermione let her head fall to the side so that she was staring at green grass and a line of trees in the distance.

The trees looked familiar, which caused Hermione to frown at them and lift herself up until she was half sitting half lying down, supporting her on one arm. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air. The unmistakable scent of jasmine was wafting by her. Quickly, she turned her head and saw not too far from her the glint of something silver from within the grass. Curious, she rose to her feet and made her way almost lethargically towards it. When she was standing directly above it, she stopped, staring down at it, her frown deepening. She was staring at a dagger. The blade was tinged red, as if blood had rusted it.

Hermione's hands began to tingle slightly, and she shivered suddenly when the breeze touched her again, but this time with icy hands. Kneeling, she reached for the blade but stopped immediately upon hearing her name said from behind her. Glancing behind her, Hermione was not expecting the sight that greeted her, but the joy that spread through her body was instantaneous. In one fluid motion, she rose to her feet and turned, a large smile spread across her face as she faced the man she loved: Ron Weasley. When he did not smile back, hers faltered. "Ron?" She asked tentatively.

"Why did you kill me?" Ron asked in a tortured voice. Hermione noticed the pain in his eyes. It sent a stabbing pain through her heart. She took a step towards him, frowning now, not understanding what he was asking. For every step she took towards him, he took one away from her. Finally, she stopped trying to near him.

"What are you talking about Ron? I didn't kill you." Hermione said softly, but Ron shook his head adamantly.

"You did! I saw you. I saw _you_. You killed me." He whispered, turning away from her. Hermione ran towards him, touching his shoulder. He whirled on her, anger in his eyes. Hermione gasped, stepping back in fear. "Don't touch me." He all but growled before mumbling, "Get away from me."

Hermione closed her eyes, willing the tears in her eyes not to fall onto her cheeks. When she opened them again, Ron was gone. The tears fell freely, and she tried to contain her sobs, as she looked around frantically, searching for Ron. Defeated, she sank to the grass and sat, crying, until her sobs subsided. Once they had, Hermione wiped her face and got to her feet again. She was compelled to make her way to the dagger again. Once there, she knelt again, this time touching the hilt. It seemed familiar to her, but she couldn't remember when she'd ever touched a dagger such as this.

Letting go, Hermione once again rose to her feet, looking around. Her eyes settled on a village in the distance. She glanced at the trees, pursing her lips ever so slightly. A feeling was rising within her, a strong urgency to enter the woods, but she felt nervous of the feeling. It seemed to her that the feeling was like that of a siren's call. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her that the woods would lead to danger. Her feet led her there anyway.

Dry leaves and small twigs crunched under the weight of her feet. Her right hand rose to touch the bark of a tree every time she passed close enough to touch one. Her left hand remained stiffly at her side, her fingers tightly wrapped around the hilt. As she progressed deeper into the woods she got the uncanny feeling she was being watched. She stopped, glancing behind her only to feel a chill run down her spine. A woman dressed in white was following her at some distance, but the woman was too far away for Hermione to glimpse any of her features clearly, though Hermione could tell she had dark hair and pale skin.

"Hermione." Came a silky whisper right beside her ear. Hermione jumped, dropping the knife just as cold hands touched her face. Crying out in fear, Hermione tried to back away, closing her eyes tightly. She found that when she tried to move away, she couldn't, put only became more pressed against something soft, which confused her. Her eyes flew open to find a face close to hers on top of a body that was leaning over her bed. The face swam blurrily in her vision until she blinked away her tiredness. Immediately she sat up, frowning. The face and its body moved away from the bed.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione demanded, sitting up. Draco Malfoy looked at her blandly but said nothing. He sat at her desk, picking up a book that lay open, its back and front covers facing up. It seemed to Hermione that he had been reading there for a while. She didn't trust him, with good reason and wanted to know why he was there. So, she repeated her question.

"Why do you care why I'm here?" Draco asked, glaring at her. Hermione bit her tongue on an acidic reply. "You're not _my_ prisoner." He offered, looking back at his book. Hermione watched him silently, pondering this. She didn't understand his meaning fully and was about to ask him, when the book dropped from his hands and he pushed the chair back as he got to his feet. Heading for the door, Draco shot Hermione a look she didn't understand. It had seemed almost apologetic.

"I was never here." He said, opening the door and giving her one last look before it closed. Hermione, baffled, sat staring at it for quite some time before she rose and found her way to an adjoined bathroom.

* * *

Three days later found Narcissa Malfoy on her knees before Lord Voldemort. Narcissa would have stood, but the particular spell she was under left her at the mercy of whoever controlled it. It just so happened that the person controlling it was a woman Narcissa knew very well. The surprise and outrage Narcissa had felt when Isabelle Dubois had arrived at her house with a pack of Death Eaters was immense. That Isabelle seemed to hold no qualms in using brute force against Narcissa caused that outrage to multiply.

Narcissa's eyes sought Isabelle. The woman stood directly beside Voldemort, her face still, her own eyes staring directly ahead as if she had no thought of her own within her mind. Narcissa glared at her anyway, before a subtle cough brought her attention to Voldemort himself. She supposed she should have been afraid of him, but she wasn't. She knew why she was there. Draco must have made good on his promise to extricate himself from Voldemort's army, or at the very least attempted to.

"Narcissa, your son is very strong willed." Voldemort said, his voice making her feel as if the smooth scaly skin of a snake were running across her own skin. She shuddered. "I assume he learned it from you. Tell me, Narcissa, does your son confide in you often?" Voldemort asked, staring into Narcissa's eyes.

The silence that fell upon the room was answer enough in Voldemort's eyes. He breathed a sigh of satisfaction as though Narcissa had responded in an expected and welcome manner. He smiled at her, in what she assumed was an attempt to be sweet. "My Lord, what do you wish for me to do with her?" Isabelle asked, her voice dull and lacking her usual characteristics. Narcissa was beginning to think that Isabelle herself was under a spell.

"Whatever you feel is necessary." Voldemort said, and vanished without even a sound. If Narcissa weren't thoroughly offended by previous actions, she would have been impressed at his skill to apparate without even the slightest indication by way of sound. Her thoughts on Isabelle being controlled were also drastically altered when she saw the smirk that spread across the woman's face, and the malicious glint in her eye.

"Did Draco tell you about Hermione Granger's capture by Severus Snape?" Isabelle asked, walking toward Narcissa, her wand trained on the kneeling woman. Narcissa frowned.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Narcissa said, her voice carrying strongly. Isabelle laughed, tossing her head so that her shiny hair went over her shoulder.

"Do you not?" Isabelle inquired, coming even closer. She did not stop until the tip of her wand was flush against Narcissa's throat. "I don't believe you, Narcissa."

"Draco never told me a thing about that." Narcissa said quickly, her strength flowing out of her as fear began to settle in her veins. Isabelle glared at her, pressing the wand harder against her. This was not the Isabelle she knew. This Isabelle struck fear in Narcissa's heart.

"You are lying. You've always disliked what our Lord has strived to accomplish. It doesn't matter how many false niceties you present, Narcissa, but we all know that deep down you are rooting for the other side to win." Isabelle whispered, leaning close to Narcissa's face. Narcissa's eyes were wide with horror. "You knew about Hermione Granger and you went to the Order with the information, didn't you, Narcissa?" Isabelle asked, her voice placating and soft.

"No, I didn't. Isabelle, I swear, I never…" Narcissa's voice was trembling. Isabelle shook her head, almost sadly.

"It's such a shame that you won't just tell me the truth." Isabelle said. "You wouldn't suffer near as much."

"No, Isabelle, please. Think about Draco, he wouldn't want you to. I never…" Narcissa pleaded, but Isabelle was no longer listening. She stepped away, admiring the red mark her wand left on Narcissa's throat.

"Oh but you did, _mother_." Isabelle cooed. She lowered her wand and Narcissa closed her eyes in relief, until she heard Isabelle's fingers snap. Instantly Narcissa's eyes were open. Several men stepped forward from the shadows. Isabelle eyed them with a smile. "No magic is to be used, understood?"

The men nodded and Narcissa began to plead with them but they weren't listening either. Isabelle walked away from them, towards the door, her heels clicking on the floor. She paused when she reached it and looked at Narcissa. Their eyes locked, and Isabelle smiled sweetly at Draco's mother. As she exited the room she heard Narcissa Malfoy begin to scream.


	9. Animosity

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Don't own. Don't own! 

**Author's Note:** I do apologize for the changing of Chapter 8, so make sure you reread it, if you haven't read the new version.

* * *

Chapter Nine  
_Animosity_

"Harry, we have a problem." Ginny Weasley said, her voice shaking. She was sitting opposite Harry Potter at the small table in the room adjoining the kitchen in his apartment. A copy of the Daily Prophet was in her hands. Harry looked up from his breakfast with a speculative look that was returned by an alarm on Ginny's face that instantly had Harry worried. She seemed to be bracing herself before she told him what she had read. "Narcissa Malfoy was killed two nights ago."

"What?" Harry asked, confused. He didn't understand why that would involve them, but Ginny was quick to explain.

"They're saying that she was involved in Hermione's disappearance, and that this was retribution for Ron." Ginny's voice wavered slightly but did not break when she spoke her brother's name. Harry felt the blood drain away from his face, shaking his head.

"That's ridiculous. We would never… she wasn't even involved!" Harry's voice rose. He slammed his hand on the table, his body beginning to shake. "So now they're playing us off as murderers?" The distress in his voice was unmistakable. During the weeks following Hermione's disappearance the Ministry had become severely infiltrated by Voldemort's men, and this included the Daily Prophet. Once again, they were painting Harry as the anti-hero, as some troubled boy who wanted attention and fame. Now they were bringing Ron's death into it. Harry fumed at the audacity.

"If Draco Malfoy believes this, he won't stand for it." Ginny said sadly. Harry had informed her of Draco's betrayal of Voldemort, that night at the Burrow after Ron's death. It was plausible to think that if Draco heard of this he would assume that this was vengeance for Ron being killed. Both Harry and Ginny would simply have to hope that Draco would be able to see when he was being played as a pawn. This was an obvious attempt on Voldemort's part to rankle Draco's anger and spurn him into action against Harry. What Harry couldn't figure out was if Voldemort wanted Draco to die trying, for him to succeed in killing Harry, or both.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was at that moment sitting outside in the garden with Hermione Granger. It had been nearly a week since Ron's death and in an attempt at soothing her heartache, Isabelle had requested that Hermione be allowed as much time as she liked in the garden outside, on the one condition that she was always accompanied by either Draco or Isabelle, herself. Hermione still didn't know who had killed Ron, but she was wary of everyone, including Draco, despite his attempts at being civil towards her. She trusted him more than she did Isabelle, though. 

Hermione was seated as far away from Draco as she was allowed, which meant that there was just about fifteen feet between them. Draco sat near to the house, on a stone bench, while Hermione had seated herself beneath a tree on the grass with a book. The sun was shining brightly and the air lacked a chill allowing for Hermione to be dressed lightly, in a simple, sleeveless, pale blue dress, that when she stood fell to her ankles revealing her still bare feet. She had requested shoes, but had been denied that luxury. Still, Hermione didn't understand it fully, but she supposed it had something to do with preventing her from escaping. Without shoes, the terrain around the house, which appeared to be rough and rocky, would be difficult for Hermione.

While Hermione read, Draco watched her periodically, alternating between observing the environment and the woman beneath the tree. The bruises were fading, leaving behind spots of yellows and what appeared to be brown with slight greenish tints. Though they weren't as noticeable as the darker bruises she had bore, that were tinged deep purple and blues, they still bothered Draco. He had never liked to see women hurt like that. Despite everything his father had taught him, Draco Malfoy did not approve of abuse against woman. It angered him to think of a man, stronger than a woman, subduing her with force such as that. Men should protect women. He had to look away from Hermione, because he could feel his anger rising, though it wasn't directed at her.

Intently staring at a rose bush lacking any blooming flowers to his left, Draco's attention was brought back to Hermione when he heard her make a small excited noise. Quickly, his head turned back to her. He watched as she kneeled forward, biting her lip, eyes fixed on a small cat that was crouching in the grass not too far from her. One hand was extended to the cat, but Hermione did not move. Draco watched the cat lift its head and sniff the air tentatively before moving forwards barely an inch. If Draco had been Hermione he probably would have rushed the cat in an attempt to get near it and pet it, but it seemed that Hermione had the better idea of letting the cat approach her.

The cat, Draco and Hermione were all disrupted quite abruptly when the door leading to the garden slammed open and the sound of heels clicking on the stone walkway could be heard. Draco turned to see Isabelle walking towards him, a sad look on her pretty face. Isabelle's eyes flitted to Hermione for a moment, before returning to Draco. Sitting beside him on the bench, Isabelle placed a hand on his. He frowned at her, wondering what it was she had come to tell him, for obviously she had come with a purpose.

"Darling, I'm afraid I have some bad news." Isabelle began, glancing back at Hermione when she saw the woman rise to her feet, leaving the book in the grass. It seemed Hermione had noticed the expression on Isabelle's face and her curiosity was urging her to come closer in order to listen. Isabelle ignored Hermione when she began to walk towards them slowly. "It's about your mother." She said softly.

"My mother?" Draco asked. Isabelle nodded, that sad expression on her face deepening. Draco shot Hermione a glance and was surprised to see that she was much closer now than he had thought she would be. He felt slightly uncomfortable, and was about to ask Isabelle to tell him later, but he was distracted. Hermione was watching Isabelle with undisguised hatred. Draco wondered if, despite her ignorance on the matter, Hermione somehow knew that it had been Isabelle who had killed Ron. His eyes strayed to her, forgetting his desire to have this conversation be spoken away from her presence.

"It appears she was involved in the attempt to rescue her." Isabelle said sadly, nodding her head once in Hermione's direction. Draco immediately frowned, knowing this to be a lie. He had specifically never mentioned Hermione or his plan to his mother. Isabelle continued to speak, "It seems Potter went after her in response to his friend's death…they found your mother's body…it was terrible what they did to her, Draco. Can you believe it? Their Hero killing her like that?" Isabelle's voice was low with sorrow, but Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't believe it for a second, and it appeared neither did Hermione. It appeared there was much more to Isabelle than he had ever known. He was slightly beginning to feel like a fool for how little he truly knew of Isabelle.

"You vile woman." Hermione's voice rang loudly in the air, bringing both Draco's and Isabelle's eyes to her. Hermione's voice was shaking, but Draco knew it was from rage, not fear. "Harry would never do such a horrible thing. Not even for Ron. Not even for me. Not for anyone!" Hermione stepped forward, her face dark with anger. Isabelle eyed her in a bored manner. Slowly, Isabelle removed her wand from her jacket and pointed it at Hermione. Draco was impressed when Hermione didn't flinch, but he did note the irritated twitch Isabelle's mouth did.

"Of course you would say that, dear." Isabelle said patronizingly. Hermione's eyes narrowed and she moved forward quickly until the tip of Isabelle's wand pressed into her chest.

"If you want me dead, do it now. No one here will stop you." Hermione's voice was dangerous. Isabelle's face showed surprise for only a second before she masked it completely. "You think that just because you gave me a room and a bed, that you gave me books and a bath that I'll forgive you? I look at you and I see every person that beat me and made me bleed. Did you think you broke me?" Hermione demanded, her eyes deadly with her hatred. Isabelle said nothing as Hermione's mouth twisted as she made a low sound in her throat, her hand rising to Isabelle's wand, fingers twisting around the wood and pressing it further into her chest.

"If you don't kill me now, I will make sure your death and your blood are on my hands before this war is done." Hermione's voice was soft and harsh, but full of conviction. There was no doubt that she spoke the truth. Draco was surprised, he had never known Hermione could posses such ill will towards another. Isabelle seemed at a loss for words now, and it was Draco who rose to his feet, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She flinched away from him, her eyes leaving Isabelle to glare at him. Draco touched Isabelle's wand and Hermione's hand released it instantly. She did not stay, but made her way past them to the door. Draco followed her, as Isabelle had instructed, for Hermione was not to be left alone at any time. He shot Isabelle a searching look. Draco forced himself to quell the pain that was rising inside of him over his mother's apparent death. He would talk with Isabelle more after he made sure Hermione was locked in her room.

He trailed Hermione into the house, up the stairs and to her door. She was already inside the room, but she had left it open, as if anticipating that she would be followed. When he entered, Draco found her sitting on her bed, a serene expression on her face. She smiled at him, and Draco wondered if she had lost her mind, but then her face darkened and she allowed all the rage and pain she felt to show on her face and in her eyes. She glared at him, such a stark contrast from the way she had looked when he first entered only moments before. He suspected she had been practicing her skills of hiding how she really felt. He was impressed, even though she had quickly let the façade fall. "Harry would never do that." She said adamantly.

Draco nodded, saying, "Yes, I know. His morals are far too good for him to settle for vengeance." Hermione was unable to conceal her surprise.

"I don't trust you." She said flatly. Draco shrugged, taking a seat at her desk. They sat in silence for a while after that. When it was apparent Draco did not intend to continue the conversation, but did also not intend to leave, Hermione shot him another confused look and sought refuge in the bathroom. Draco remained in her room for ten more minutes, staring blankly at the wall, contemplating what Isabelle had told him. She must have suspected that Narcissa had been involved, went to Voldemort and had the problem taken care of. It was a shame that Isabelle had done that, not knowing that Draco himself was the traitor she sought.


	10. Clandestine

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer:** I_ wish_. 

**Author's Note:** I dedicate this chapter to _Cibbler_ and _Max Ride Fan 13_. I love reviews, and the both of you have submitted the most, more than half of my total reviews. Thank you!

* * *

Chapter Ten  
_Clandestine_

Hermione Granger woke groggily from a dream she couldn't remember. There was the faint metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Alarmed, she sat up quickly, one hand rising to her face. Gingerly she touched her lips; they were wet. Pulling her hand away, she saw that her fingertips were crimson. Her hand returned to her face, wiping under her nose, as she scrambled to her feet. Blood dripped from her face, spotting the blankets on her bed and the floor as she made her way to the bathroom. One hand pushed open the door, as the other remained cradled beneath her nose. Hermione stopped short when she saw her reflection in the mirror. A gasp escaped her. Dark bruises were under her eyes radiating from the bridge of her nose as if she had been hit swiftly in the face, directly in the center.

Bright blood dripped from her nose, over her lips and fell from her chin. There were smudges on her left cheek of what appeared to be dried blood, giving Hermione the impression her nose had previously bled, stopped and then restarted. It was then that she registered the dull ache that emanated from her nose. She felt as if she had been hit in the face with a baseball bat. Tears welling in her eyes, Hermione fumbled for the towel she used to dry herself after her showers. The white cloth soon became saturated with brilliant red. She was shaking, holding the towel to her face with one hand, while the other was tightly gripping the edge of the counter to help her keep her balance. Her head felt unusually light; her stomach was churning and nauseous.

Looking around the bathroom, Hermione noticed that everything seemed slightly blurred. With a stunning ferocity, pain seared through her body causing her to cry out in pain. She heard voices and searched for their origin in confusion. She was alone, but she could hear a woman speaking to her. Shouting filled the room. Hermione's face contorted in pain, her mouth open as she tried to breathe normally. An unexplainable fear seized her, and tears began to fall down her cheeks, mingling with her blood. Bile rose in her throat and her body pitched forward violently. She fell to her knees, retching on the floor in front of her. Trembling, Hermione cried out when she felt hands on her, but found no one touching her.

Her chest heaving with her labored breathing, Hermione shakily rose to her feet, steadying herself with one hand on the wall. She blinked as the room seemed to dim, then brighten. Unsteadily she made her way out of the bathroom and into her room, but the voices only became louder. Her nose still dripping blood, Hermione crawled into her bed, burrowing beneath the blankets completely ignoring the fact that her sheets and mattress were darkening with her blood. From under the blanket she heard the whispers, catching her name several times in the conversation. It seemed that there were several men speaking to a woman. The woman's voice was so familiar but Hermione's head swam with dizziness and she couldn't remember. Her eyes felt heavy then, and Hermione allowed her lids to close. The darkness that greeted her was comforting.

* * *

When she woke, hours later, Hermione blinked at the light illuminating her room. She started to rise to a seated position, slowly, but stopped halfway when she saw Draco Malfoy sitting at her desk again. She narrowed her eyes at him, suspiciously. He eyed her back with a strange expression. "You wouldn't by any chance remember the past two nights, would you?" He asked. 

"The past two nights? Of course I do. Last night was when Isabelle told you…" Hermione trailed off, noting Draco's raised eyebrow. "What?" She asked, thoroughly confused.

"I didn't think you'd remember, to be honest, but it was worth a try asking." Draco responded. He motioned to the bathroom. "You may want to take a look at yourself. Perhaps it'll trigger something in the way of remembrance." He said. Hermione's frown deepened. She got out bed, noting how shaky her legs were. She felt weak and sore, which confused her more. At the door to the bathroom, she glanced back at Draco. He had stood and was walking towards her. She pushed open the door, looking for her reflection in the mirror. The moment she saw the dark bruises beneath her eyes, and discoloring her nose, she flinched.

Her hands raised to gingerly touch her skin. She cringed at the pain that occurred when she lightly touched the bruises. In the mirror she saw Draco stand behind her, watching her. She opened her mouth to speak but clenched her jaw tightly as the room began to blur around her. There was a disconcerting feeling in her chest and stomach as she blinked, wrinkling her nose, which now no longer hurt, and looked around. She was alone, standing in the center of her room, beside her bed. One hand reached out and touched the blankets, but she jerked it back when her door opened. Turning, she saw Isabelle standing in the doorframe, a smirk on her face. Though confused at first, it became clear to Hermione that this was a memory from one of the previous nights.

"You need to learn to watch that mouth of yours." Isabelle sneered. With a sickening feeling, the room around Hermione began to blur again and she fell to her knees as something hit her strong and hard in her chest. She gasped for air, staring at a growing pool of blood on the floor in front of her. Looking up, Hermione saw that there were several men in the room, but Isabelle was nowhere to be found. One of the men came to her, grabbing her hair in his fist, wrenching her head up until she had to struggle to her feet to alleviate the pain. Again, the room swam around her as her vision blurred and she found herself sitting up in her bed, her fingers slick with blood. Hermione blinked, breathing hard, once again staring at her reflection in the mirror. Draco Malfoy stood behind her.

"Why?" Hermione asked, still breathing hard. She turned to Draco who stepped away from her, perhaps as a sign he didn't want to encumber her level of comfort with him.

"She fears you, though she'll never admit it." Draco said, resuming his spot at Hermione's desk. Hermione pondered this for a moment, baffled at the thought.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be…" Hermione began, but Draco didn't let her finish.

"Killing innocent people? Ruining lives?" He offered, bitterly. Hermione frowned. "Everything's been cleaned, as you can see." Draco said, changing the subject. Hermione stood awkwardly not knowing what to say. He shrugged, rising to his feet, putting a hand in his pants pocket. He felt around for a second, and then pulled a galleon out of his pocket. He looked at it for a second, before he tossed it toward Hermione. She made no move to catch it, merely watched as it bounced off her leg and hit the floor.

"What are you doing?" She asked. Draco raised an eyebrow at her, a small smile touching his lips.

"And they say you're the brightest witch of our age. You had a clever idea during fifth year, don't you think, Hermione?" Draco asked, enunciating her name with a slight tease. Hermione continued to frown at him, not understanding what he meant, before her eyes widened.

"Oh." Was all she could say, and Draco shook his head.

"If you need anything." He said, making his way to the door. Hermione waited until the door was closed before she practically pounced on the galleon. As she stared at it, examining it closely, the serial numbers on it changed, the galleon growing warm against her skin, but she couldn't decipher the meaning. She doubted they even had a meaning, that Draco was merely changing them so she could see it worked. She was perplexed for a moment, trying to understand how _she_ was supposed to change something on it, when to her amazement the numbers changed to the exact order she had been diligently thinking of. The charm on it must be quite complex and specified to react to her touch and thoughts, or else the galleon and its purpose would become quite obsolete if it fell into the wrong hands.

She was so intently studying the galleon that she hardly noticed when the door reopened and Draco reappeared. He stood there watching her. He cleared his throat to gain her attention and she jumped, dropping the galleon. "Just checking to see if it worked?" He asked. Hermione said nothing. She could say nothing, it seemed as if there were no words to express her surprise, not to mention her distrust. Was this some clever ruse to gain her trust so that he could hurt her more in the end? Did Isabelle know about this? What could Draco Malfoy possibly gain from helping her? Draco nodded at her, that smile quirking onto his lips once more before he exited the room again, leaving Hermione staring at the door.

* * *

Draco walked from the room, his heart beating fast. It was a risky thing to do, giving Hermione the other galleon. He had heard about that particular trick during their fifth year, and had managed to duplicate the effects while specializing it to react to only two minds. He doubted that Isabelle would figure it out, but there was a chance that she could. Having reached a point where he cared little, Draco was more than willing to take that risk. If she did discover the secret, he could play it off as some attempt to trick the girl into false trust. Either way, he felt he needed a way to know when Hermione would need help. Isabelle seemed disinclined to include him whenever she felt the need to do something drastic, like killing someone, or torturing the lover of the murdered man. Ever since he and Isabelle had talked about his mother's death, his wariness of Isabelle had grown. She was lying to him and she didn't even realize that he knew it. 

Continually Isabelle spoke of how tragic it was that Draco's mother had been involved in the attempt to rescue Hermione, and how awful it was that Harry Potter and his friends had taken it into their own hands to find justice over Ron Weasley's death. Draco was sick with frustration, knowing that only Isabelle could have accused Narcissa of the betrayal. No one else would have dared even thought it, for fear of Draco's reaction. It was a clever plan: make it seem as though the Order had killed Narcissa in hopes Draco would take action. The night Isabelle had told Draco of his mother's death something had snapped in him. He no longer looked at Isabelle and saw the woman he loved; it was quite clear that during Voldemort's ascent to power Isabelle had fallen deeper into darkness, all the while keeping Draco ignorant of that. Draco was immensely glad he had never felt inclined to share with Isabelle his desire to forsake Voldemort's cause. It most likely would have been the end of his life.

As he entered the room where Isabelle sat, writing a letter on a desk near the fire, he felt a twinge in his heart. She was beautiful and there was no denying that he loved her. When he watched her how she was now, he could almost believe that she was still the caring, peaceful woman he had thought she was. But he knew now that she had just been putting up a front to hide her true self. It was something he saw done often among Death Eaters and their families. Many would show one face to the world and their loved ones, while hiding a dark, sadist side that hungered for violence and corruption. Draco himself did the same thing, only for him the gentler nature was the side he kept hidden. Draco felt blindsided that for years he had never seen it in Isabelle. There must have been signs.

Isabelle looked up from her writing, giving Draco a small smile and the twinge hit his heart again. He did not return the smile, he couldn't, though he did let his feet lead him to her. Kneeling, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, breathing in her scent. She smiled at him again, reaching a hand up to touch his face. "Everything alright, dear?" She asked. Draco swallowed, trying to keep his face void of emotion. He couldn't speak, either, he found. Nodding, Draco rose to his feet and left Isabelle alone in the room. He wandered until he found himself standing outside in the garden, the moonlight shining on his troubled face.


	11. Quiet

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer:** If I get sued over this, then that's ridiculous.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for correcting my mistakes. _You know who you are._

Sorry this took so long to be updated. I think it has been a week? Or more? I've been busy with some family things, some relationship things, some friend things, plus I'm moving, so I've been packing. I hate moving. It's so tiresome!

* * *

Chapter Eleven  
_Quiet_

The sun's warm rays fell onto Hermione's skin giving her the comforting feeling of being wrapped in warmth. After suffering through many cold nights, as she had, she viewed this warmth almost as hope. She sighed, leaning back until she was lying on the grass. Knowing that she was still in enemy territory, her guard was up and she was listening alertly to the sounds around her, but gradually her body began to relax. A gentle meow broke her reverie, causing her eyes to fly open, but she lay still. For days now she'd been trying to coerce a feral cat to trust her. Slowly turning her head, Hermione saw that the cat sat no more than four feet away; it's pale green eyes watching her. For a moment, Hermione shudder as the eyes reminded her of the other cat that had killed the bird she had been also trying to coerce into trust.

The similarity to the previous cat ended with the eyes. The other cat had been stocky, built toughly and carrying a dangerous look about it. This cat seemed shy and it was thin. It didn't look like it was eating properly at all, and Hermione wondered if it was because it was too gentle to fend for itself properly; perhaps it was too scared. Its fur was short and varied in color. For the most part, the cat was white, though the white fur was badly dirtied. A large patch on its back was striped in grey and dark grey, like a tabby, but starting at the center of its tail and ending at the tip, it was a cinnamon color, though still striped like a tabby. Its head had varying patches of both colored stripes, above the eyes, leaving the entire front of the face white. All together, it was an interesting cat to look at, not to mention beautiful. Hermione had yet to determine if it was male or female.

The cat meowed softly again and Hermione smiled. Quickly the smile disappeared as the cat, spooked by the sound of footsteps coming near, turn and ran away. She watched it longingly, wishing that she could hold it close to her. Ever since Crookshanks had died mysteriously just after her graduating year at Hogwarts, Hermione had desired a new companion animal. She had never been able to bring herself to acquire one always feeling it was disrespectful to Crookshanks' memory. Now, though, Hermione needed some form of companionship. She was without friends, behind enemy lines, her time being bided until whatever use these people had for her became needed. Draco Malfoy was the closest she had to a friend here, but even then it was a far stretch. After all, how can you befriend a snake? You always have a nagging fear that it will strike and bite you if you extend your hand.

"Pretty cat." The voice of Draco Malfoy said from above her. Hermione swung her head to look at him, staring up, squinting against the sun. His face was in shadow, the light being directly behind him. She propped herself up on her elbow, shielding her face with her other hand.

"Yeah." She said, looking away and scanning the garden for nothing in particular.

"Isabelle has mentioned you joining the rest of us for dinners, formally." Draco said, bringing Hermione's eyes back to his shadowy face. She balked at the idea; her already marred face twisted with a grimace as she frowned.

"You can tell her that I would rather be eaten alive by rats." Hermione replied, her voice flat. Draco laughed softly.

"I doubt she'll take no for an answer."

"Well, I won't eat with barbarians." Hermione continued, her voice still flat and unrelenting. If Isabelle wanted her to eat with them, she would have to force her to.

"If you want the cat to come to you, you should give it food." Draco said, surprising Hermione. She looked at him incredulously.

"And where exactly would I find extra food?" She asked, quirking her eyebrow.

"I'll give you some, of course." He said simply. Hermione let out what sounded like a laugh. Draco couldn't be entirely sure.

"Of course." She said sarcastically. She continued, seriously. "What are you playing at? First you give me…"

"Don't ever mention that again." Draco interrupted, his voice low. He looked over his shoulder somewhat nervously. He eyed Hermione's guard for the day, a man who sat reading at some distance. Hermione pursed her lips, watching Draco. He turned his head back to her, fixing her with a stern glare. "I'm not playing at anything. Forget your little friend then." He said, turning on his heel and taking a step forward. Hermione instantly was rising to her feet, reaching out a hand to stop him.

"Please, I'm sorry. I'd really like for that cat to allow me to pet it." She said, sounding almost like a child. Her hand didn't touch him, because her voice had stalled him. He glanced back at her, a contemplating look on his face. He sighed loudly, but continued on his way. Hermione stared after him dejectedly.

"Find something nicer to wear for dinner tonight, or Isabelle will be displeased." He said over his shoulder, causing Hermione to sulk more. "Tomorrow I'll help you win over your feline." She heard him say just before he stepped inside. Her lips curved into a smile, that she deftly hid when the man reading looked at her. She stared at him warily before settling back down on the grass, her eyes watching the cloudless blue sky, wishing there were clouds.

* * *

Just after nightfall, Hermione Granger stood in her room, sifting through a pile of clothes she had dumped onto her bed. There hadn't been much in the closet that was considered nice. Eventually she settled on a pair of worn muggle jeans, a black shirt and a dark green sweater that she had to admit fit her nicely, and complimented her coloring. She doubted Isabelle would be pleased, but it she was hardly aiming to please. The only reason she had convinced herself to go, was the fact that Draco had said he would help her befriend the cat. In fact, she had considered throwing on the most jumbled and horrible outfit she could manage to put together, just for the sake of irritating the woman. However, knowing the cost of Isabelle's irritation, Hermione decided to go for a less subtle defiance of the request Draco had relayed to her. 

Hermione entered the bathroom and was looking at her reflection with mild disgust. The bruises looked terrible against her pale skin, and her hair, though slightly tame, was still a mess of tangled curls that resembled a bird's next in various places. It aggravated her that they had yet to give her a comb. Running her fingers through her hair, in an attempt to rid herself of the tangles, her fingers caught on the knots and tangles, tugging the roots of her hair uncomfortably. Eventually she was swearing over the pain, frustrated with her lack of progress. She sighed heavily, glaring at her unruly hair in the mirror.

A knock sounded from the adjoined room, and she was surprised. Not once had anyone knocked before entering her room here, which had often led to some embarrassing moments involving her being partially nude while changing. Usually these moments occurred when it was nameless men come to escort her to the garden or deliver her food, but once Draco had walked in, immediately lowering his gaze and walking out the door, waiting until she called through that it was fine. Now, she approached the door almost curiously, wondering who would possibly be knocking. She called through the wood that it was fine for them to enter, stepping back towards her bed. She wasn't entirely surprised to see that it was Draco, himself.

"This is absolutely ridiculous you know." Hermione said, sitting on the edge of her bed. Draco nodded with a laugh, and for a second Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She turned her head to try and hide them, but Draco saw, though he didn't say anything. She laughed nervously, wiping beneath her eyes with both hands. "I'm so sorry, just for a moment there, you almost sounded like Ron." She whispered, watching Draco carefully. No reaction registered on his face, though she was sure he probably had felt annoyed at the comparison. She knew that Ron had not been one of Draco's favorite people.

"I agree with you, by the way. I don't know what Isabelle is thinking, having you join us." He said, trying to ease her away from the topic. Much subdued, Hermione merely nodded. She was staring at her hands, which were folded in her lap, when suddenly she looked up at Draco, her eyes immensely sad.

"I never said I was sorry about your mother." She said. Draco blinked at her, surprised. "I only met her once, and she didn't seem like a very agreeable person, but I'm sure she was rather lovely." Hermione stumbled over her words, and Draco smiled as she insulted his mother at the same time she offered condolences. Awkwardly, Hermione stood, making her way toward the door, wanting to be free of the embarrassed feeling that was causing her cheeks to warm. She knew that Draco had followed her into the hall when she heard her door close. He moved past her, leading the way silently.

They entered a room to find Isabelle already seated, along with three others, at a somewhat smaller table than Hermione had expected. There were only six plates set around it, though Hermione knew for certain that there were more occupying this home than that since the move after the rescue attempt. Isabelle looked up at Hermione, smiling warmly. "Good evening." She said pleasantly. Hermione's eyebrows rose, refusing to smile back or even respond. Her hands grasped the back of the chair farthest from Isabelle, pulling it out. She sat down, feeling awkward again, not knowing why she was here. She rather liked it more being locked in a room alone.

Draco sat, as well, and presently a troupe of house elves entered the room carrying dishes of food. Hermione clucked in displeasure, insisting that she retrieve her own food. Her protests were quelled by a dark look from Isabelle. The sixth man joined them as soon as the food was settled on their plates, and Isabelle shot him an annoyed glance, though she said nothing. For several minutes they ate in silence, but then the other men began small chitchat, with Isabelle and Draco chiming in every once in a while. Hermione ate in silence, keeping her eyes firmly on the table. She had just swallowed a bite of chicken, when she heard Isabelle say her name.

Glancing up, Hermione saw that Isabelle was watching her with an expectant look. Not having paid attention to the conversation, Hermione was lost. Isabelle seemed to take note of that and gave Hermione a small condescending smile. "I said, Draco mentioned that you've taken a liking to a cat on the grounds and you wish to acquire it as a pet?"

Immediately, Hermione shot Draco a cold glare, but it seemed that there was something in his eyes that contradicted what Isabelle said. When her eyes settled back on Isabelle they were narrowed with distrust. "Not as a pet. I'd simply like for it to trust me." She said carefully. Isabelle made a sound of understanding and nodded her head. She stared into Hermione's eyes.

"As do I." Isabelle said, and Hermione heard the meaning in her words, but was astounded that Isabelle would even consider it a possibility that she ever trust any of them fully after the things she had endured at their hands.

"The trouble, Isabelle, is that unlike you, I won't beat the cat nearly to death after petting it and giving it food." Hermione said, her temper getting the best of her. The other men, who had continued to talk softly, became silent instantly. Hermione saw Isabelle's jaw clench as the woman set her utensils down and placed her hands in her lap.

"Is that so?" Isabelle asked, her voice filled with venom. She was on her feet in a matter of seconds, rounding the table and pulling Hermione's chair from its place with more force than expected. Her wand was in her hand, pointed at Hermione's throat. Hermione clenched her jaw, made no sound, and did not let her expression show the sudden fear she felt. The men watched silently, still sitting, but Draco rose to his feet as well, talking quietly to Isabelle has he approached. His words blocked Hermione from hearing what spell Isabelle whispered but she understood the effects immediately. Opening her mouth, Hermione found she could not speak. Isabelle smiled at her, almost affectionately. "If you cannot mind your tongue, I will have to do it for you."

Hermione glared at her, tears welling in her eyes. Draco had a hand on Isabelle's arm, and was leading her away. On impulse, Hermione reached forward, grasping her plate, still slightly covered with food and hurled it at the men opposite her. She tried to speak, tried to yell, but no sound emerged from her mouth. She was crying freely, though the only evidence was her ragged breathing as she continued to grab plates and cups and throw them. The men were on her quickly, holding her arms and dragging her roughly to her room. Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Draco watching her, a sad look on his face. Isabelle stood beside him, her face lit with sadistic pleasure.


	12. Allure

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer: **The plot remains mine, otherwise the characters and terms you recognize as belonging to JK Rowling are, in fact, hers. 

**Author's Note:**Landlords _blow_. I hate having to deal with them!

_Random fact: _Originally, Isabelle was supposed to be good. It's funny how stories just write themselves once you start.

* * *

Chapter Twelve  
_Allure_

Ginny Weasley walked through the crowded streets in Diagon Alley. Her eyes flitted from one side of the road to the other, scanning the signs hanging above the doors. She had walked this path many times, and knew each store by heart, so she stopped, curious when she saw a sign she didn't recognize. _The Black Orchid_ stood precariously close to the entrance to Knockturn Alley, but Ginny's curiosity urged her forward. The door was open, but it was dark with shadows inside, flickering candlelight illuminating the room only slightly. Black curtains covered the windows, but there were ledges covered in the same black material, what looked like velvet, between the glass and the curtains veiling the store. On these ledges sat various trinkets.

As Ginny neared, she saw a small statue made of polished marble. It rose no higher than two feet. A man and a woman embraced, the man bearing wings that sprouted from just between his shoulder blades on his back. The woman's back was facing the man, her face turned, and neck twisted to stare up at him, the longing on her face captured well. Her hands were raised in an attempt to touch his face while his arms surrounded her, one reaching across her chest, a hand languidly resting on her breast. Both were naked but for a piece of cloth that was draped across the very top of the woman's thighs where they joined her pelvis.

Drawn towards this particular statue, Ginny noticed nothing else in the windows. The elaborate jewelry and various other statues were ignored. She stepped into the store, breathing in deeply the scent of incense. Something about it seemed familiar to Ginny, as if she'd smelled it before recently. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darker room, and looking around Ginny was in awe of the beauty of the store. Statues similar to the one she had seen outside were scattered about the room; beautifully embraced men and woman surrounded her, among shining silver jewelry and glittering jewels. An old woman sat behind a counter some ways into the store, a bent looking woman wearing dark clothes, and loose gray hair.

"Excuse me," Ginny said as she neared the woman, "there's a statue outside, a man with wings and a woman. I'd like to know how much it is to buy." The woman smiled at Ginny revealing that several of her teeth were missing. When the woman moved she jingled as if small bells were attached to her, but Ginny could see none visible.

"Yes, Eros and Psyche, but I'm afraid that one is not for sale." The woman said politely, smiling again at Ginny.

"Oh, may I ask why it's on display then?"

"Why, to get you into the store, dear." The woman spoke, her voice lowering. Ginny frowned at her, suddenly feeling very nervous. The woman was walking towards her, still smiling. Somewhere behind her, Ginny heard the door close. She whirled around to see a cloaked and hooded figure standing in front of it. Behind her the old woman crooned, "Don't be afraid."

* * *

Sitting still on her bed, staring at the wall opposite her, Hermione Granger remained silent. It was not a willing choice, for if she had opened her mouth to speak she would be unable to. For two days now, Hermione had been without speech. She refused to leave her room, instead remaining in the same position every time someone came to bring her food. No one tried to force her to descend for dinners again, because after her first dinner, on the following evening, she had bit and scratched at the man who came to lead her away, hitting him wherever she could, as hard as she could. The man had left with a bloodied face. Her food was now thrown on the floor carelessly. Hermione had thus far made no effort to retrieve it, causing her to feel faintly light headed and sick. 

There came a soft knock on the door, and then it swung open. Draco Malfoy stepped inside, and to Hermione's surprise, he held a cat in his arms. It was _the_ cat. The poor animal looked scared, but it remained motionless in his arms. Stepping into the room, Draco shut the door with his heel, releasing the cat the moment the door clicked into place. The cat dashed forward, slipping beneath the bed. Hermione remained still, her eyes on Draco. Without speaking, he took up his usual place at her desk, picking up the book he had been reading each time he was there. For ten minutes, Hermione sat watching Draco, until she gingerly climbed off her bed and knelt beside it. She peered beneath the mattress, her eyes seeking out the cat.

After confirming that the cat was real, and indeed under her bed, Hermione rocked back on her heels, twisting her head so that she was looking behind her. Draco was reading, or at least pretending to. Pushing herself up from the floor with her hands, Hermione rose to her feet. She walked towards the desk; Draco still didn't look up from his book. It was only when Hermione was only inches away and had a hand snaking towards him that he glanced up at her with a quirked eyebrow and curious expression. She ignored him, pushing past him and grasping the handle of a drawer in the center of the desk. Tugging on it hard, it pulled out and hit Draco, stopping. He didn't move, but Hermione hadn't expected him to. She slipped her small hand into the opening and fished around until she found a few loose sheets of paper and a crayon. The entire time, her eyes kept flitting to his face somewhat nervously.

Supplies in hand, Hermione retreated to her bed, sitting with her back to the headboard. Her knees lifted towards her chest, feet planted firmly on the mattress. It was difficult, but she managed to write what she wanted to say on the paper, with the crayon, though it left it wrinkled and some of the letters were poorly shaped. When she was finished, she set the crayon on the bed beside her, clutching the paper in her hands, which rested on the top of her knees. She peered over the paper and her hands, her eyes fixed on Draco. He was watching her, the book still open in front of him. Then, in one fluid motion, he pushed the chair back and rose to his feet beginning to walk towards her. Whisking the paper out of her hands caused Hermione to feel the small slicing sensation of the paper's edge cut into the soft flesh between her forefinger and thumb on both hands. She sucked in a sharp intake of breath. Draco glanced at her, but said nothing, as he resumed his seat at her desk.

He read what she had written while she nursed the now bleeding small slits on both hands. She was holding her right hand to her mouth, sucking slightly on the cut for a few seconds before alternating hands. Draco's voice brought her attention away from the pain, which was admittedly weak, but surprising. "She came willingly, for the food."

Hermione nodded, one hand still attached to her mouth. Frustrated, wanting to speak but being unable to, Hermione let out a loud sigh, dropping her hand to her lap. The hand instantly rose again, pressing against her chest, her eyes widening when she saw Draco's wand pointed at her. The fear she felt was written on her face, and she noticed the way Draco winced while he muttered something so softly she couldn't hear. A slightly warm feeling tingled her throat and her mouth turned up in a smile. "Thank you." She whispered, her voice hoarse.

"I'll have to put the spell back on when I leave, you know." Draco said, watching Hermione closely. There were tears in her eyes and she was staring at Draco with such gratitude that he had to look away.

"Yes, yes, that's fine." Hermione said, her voice hushed and breathy. She took a deep breath and wiped away a single tear that fell onto her cheeks. Draco looked at her uncomfortably, fidgeting slightly.

Draco cleared his throat then said, "You'll be allowed to keep the cat here with you. I spoke with Isabelle about it already." Hermione's eyes locked on his, glowing somewhat. She was smiling still, and it made Draco immensely uncomfortable to have her looking at him in such a way. A piteous meow issued from beneath the bed and Hermione surged forward so quickly that she lost her balance as she neared the edge of the bed. She lurched forward, but before she could fall, Draco had lunged towards her, grasping her upper arms to steady her and push her back on the bed. At the contact of his hands, Hermione reacted violently. Suddenly afraid, she kicked at him. He released her at once and she fell onto the bed, chest heaving.

"Don't touch me." Hermione said somewhat harshly.

"I wasn't going to hurt you." Draco replied, frowning at her. Hermione returned the expression, her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. Draco shook his head. He stepped away from where he stood, making his way to the door. One hand on the knob, he turned back, pointing his wand at Hermione. She had tears in her eyes again and was shaking her head, a pleading look in her eyes. Draco looked away, muttering the spell and opening the door at the same time. He didn't look back as he stepped out. The door clicked closed and Draco leaned against it, sighing. Time was running out for Hermione; he needed to act fast.


	13. Extrication

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Someday I'll own the rights to my own novels, but not the lovely Rowling's. 

**Author's Note:** I hope this chapter makes up for the shortness in _'Allure', _both in length and substance. The name Mwynen...I've heard it pronounced either _M-win-in_ or _M-wee-nen_. I pronounce it the latter, but whatever works. It's Welsh (meaning: gentle one)... and Celtic/Gaelic names tend to be difficult to pronounce from their spellings, haha, but I do love them!

_Random Question:_ Is it really so wrong to break up with your boyfriend three days before Valentine's Day if the relationship obviously isn't going anywhere and he makes you uncomfortable? Besides, it's just another day in a year, right?

* * *

Chapter Thirteen  
_Extrication_

For three days Hermione remained in her room. She ate what food was given to her, sharing it with the cat. A mutual trust had been gained between the feline and the human. When Hermione fell into fitful sleep, the cat would crawl beside her, purring and pressing into the warmth of Hermione's body. The reassuring touch of another living creature calmed Hermione in her dreams, and the two slept peacefully together once they were united. The cat had even taking to following Hermione into the bathroom, which caused Hermione to smile and laugh, even though no sound issued from her. The cat's companionship soothed the heartache that Hermione felt, and curbed the loneliness that ran rampant inside her.

It had nearly been a week since Isabelle had first taken Hermione's speech away. Draco had not returned since bringing the cat to her. It troubled her that she wanted him to come. In all actuality it was understandable. Draco had shown her kindness where the others hadn't. After living without friends and companionship for over a month, she had become accustomed to Draco in a way. Her wariness of him was lessening, but it was still there. She feared him, feared that his kindness was an act, but at the same time, she gravitated towards it, merely because it was such a foreign thing to her in this place that she craved it.

Presently, the cat meowed, nudging Hermione's chin with its own. Smiling, Hermione began to pet the cat slowly, scratching beneath its chin and between its ears. The cat purred, closing its eyes and rubbing its head against Hermione. Looking to the windows, Hermione saw that the sky was darkening. She pushed herself up, causing the cat to become disturbed where it lay. The cat gave a slight disgruntled cry, but then sniffed the air and jumped from the bed, disappearing beneath the bed. Hermione looked at the door expectantly. The cat always behaved like this just before someone arrived with her food, and just like every other time, the door swung open.

Instead of a guard carrying food, Hermione was presented with Draco Malfoy, slightly disheveled looking and wearing a pained expression on his face. He stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him, as if he were afraid to make too much noise. He neared the bed, his eyes were slightly glazed looking, and he said, "You have to get up. You have to get clothes…warm clothes. The cat, you have to get the cat." He said, his voice strained and shaking slightly. Instantly Hermione was on her feet, worried. He was acting far from normal; she was concerned he was hurt.

She neared him, opening her mouth to speak and immediately closed it when she realized he wouldn't be able to hear what she was asking. He wasn't looking at her, instead staring at the window, his lips moving soundlessly. Panic was beginning to rise in Hermione as she watched him. Suddenly he broke out of his reverie, his face snapping towards her, his eyes focusing on her completely. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. When he opened them they were again trained on the window. Without looking, he removed his wand from his pocket and pointed it at Hermione, saying the spell to allow her speech. The moment she was able to, her words tumbled out of her mouth quickly.

"What's happened? Malfoy, are you alright?" She asked, her voice slightly higher than usual. He was ignoring her now, making his way to her closet. He disappeared for a moment, and Hermione could hear him rustling through the clothes. He reappeared holding several items that he threw onto the bed.

"I told you, get warm clothes and the cat." He said, his voice somewhat stern. Hermione frowned at him, but moved towards the clothes he had tossed onto the bed. The same pair of muggle jeans she had worn to the dinner sat beside a heavy dark blue sweater, a black button up jacket, a dark red long sleeved shirt and a few t-shirts in varying shades of grey. "Take whatever you want, you'll have a bag to carry how ever much you need." Draco said.

Hermione was confused, but she did as he said, stepping into the closet and grabbing the clothes she had liked most, as well as whatever she found that was warm. When she reemerged her arms were laden with clothes and she could hardly see above the pile she was holding. Draco tried to suppress a smile, shaking his head. "You said however much I wanted to take." Hermione said, shrugging. The motion caused several items of clothing on the top of the pile to fall to the floor, and when she bent to try to retrieve them, more fell off until finally she let out a frustrated sigh and opened her arms, allowing the entire pile to fall at her feet.

Draco stooped and began to gather the clothes and toss them into a bag that lay open on Hermione's bed. She assumed he had conjured the bag while she was in the closet, because she hadn't noticed nor seen it previous to that. When half the clothes were in the bag, it was apparent that the jumbled mess wouldn't fit, so Draco dumped them onto the bed and began folding the clothes so they took up less room. Hermione watched this curiously. It was odd for her to see Draco doing something so domestic as packing a bag. Biting her lip, Hermione sat on the edge of her desk.

"Where are we going?" She asked suddenly. Draco stopped with one hand halfway in the bag, holding an article of clothing. He half turned to her, as if he were going to reply, but then continued putting the clothes into the bag silently. Hermione frowned, pushing off the desk and landing softly on the floor. "Where are we going, Malfoy?" She repeated, her voice nervous and small. With a heavy sigh, he turned to her.

"I don't know." He said, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, continuing to shake his head. "I have no idea. Italy?" His voice was distressed as he turned back to the bag and continued to pack the clothes.

"You don't know? How can you not know? Why are you the only one here? Why are we leaving? Has there been another rescue attempt?" Hermione asked, her questions running together. Draco shoved the bag away from him, whirling on Hermione. She flinched, drawing away from him, her lower back hitting the edge of the desk. She gave a small frightened cry, pulling as far away from Draco as she could.

"Do you want to die?" He hissed. He clenched his jaw at the silence that followed his question. Hermione stared at him with wide eyes, her heart beginning to beat faster. "Because if you do, then by all means, please continue bothering me with these pointless questions and I'll be happy to leave you here so that you can be a pawn in some big plan and die tragically like your pathetic boyfriend. However, if you would like to make good on that promise of yours to the woman who killed him, then shut your mouth and get that damn cat, because we're leaving _now_." Draco bit out, his voice acidic.

Hermione didn't move, her eyes welling with tears. Anger began to rise inside of her, her eyes narrowing, chin quivering as a lump formed in her throat. The tears fell onto her cheeks the second the sob escaped her. Shoulders coming forward slightly, she lowered her head, wiping the tears from her face. "You bastard." She whispered, glaring at Draco through her tears. "What right do you have to say those things to me?" She demanded.

Draco seemed taken aback. In his frustration he hadn't realized what he had been saying, but now he felt ashamed for having insulted Ron. Hermione was glaring at him with such hatred that he didn't know what to do. She was crying, half turned from him, now, a hand resting on the desk as her body heaved with the force of her sobs. It took nearly five minutes for her to calm. Draco uncomfortably finished packing her clothes into the bag, and when he had finished, she was nearly quiet again. However, when he turned to face her, her rage was unleashed. She flew at him, slapping him in the face, her eyes glinting with savageness. Nearly as quickly, it died away leaving only a hollow sorrow in them.

"You're a coward." She said, her voice breaking. Her cheeks shone with the wetness of her tears. Her body racked with sobs again, she sank to the floor. "You had no right…no right at all…I'll kill her. I'll kill her." Her words were hushed, filled with despair and nearly unrecognizable through her tears, but Draco understood nonetheless. Feeling ashamed, he knelt next her, touching her arm lightly. Face snapping up, Hermione glared at him, but didn't flinch away.

"I don't want you to die." He said simply. He rose to his feet, extending a hand to help her rise to her own. "Please, help me free you from this place." There was a slight pleading tone to his words. Hermione sniffed, wiping at her eyes with one hand. She stared at him for a few seconds, her uncertainty written on her face. Finally she took his hand, cautiously, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, sniffing and wiping at the tears that continued to fall.

"Honestly?" Draco asked, kneeling again, to peer beneath the bed. He made small noises that Hermione assumed were to entice the cat to come to him.

"Yes, and she won't come to you like that. It only bothers her." Draco stopped what he was doing and looked up at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. He got up, making a movement towards the bed, inviting Hermione to retrieve that cat herself.

"Honestly, it's because I don't agree with any of it." He said, grabbing the bag off the bed. Hermione didn't know what to say, so she lowered herself to the ground, practically laying on the floor.

"Come on, Mwy" Hermione said softly, sniffing again and trying not to start sobbing again. The cat meowed at her, cocking its head to the side. "Come on, Mwynen." Hermione said again, her voice cracking a little more. The cat meowed again and rushed forward, hitting her face against Hermione's and purring. Hermione sobbed, wrapping her arms around the cat, pulling it with her as she sat up. The cat curled into Hermione's arms, staring up at her.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked. Hermione looked up at him, hugging the cat to her chest, crying heavily. She nodded, rising to her feet with some difficulty. "Alright. Don't worry about the guards, or Isabelle. I've given them all a very strong sleeping potion. When we're outside I'll apparate us out of the country." He explained. Hermione pressed her lips together, biting back another sob. The cat meowed, rubbing her head against Hermione in what Draco thought was a calming gesture. Finally, Hermione calmed herself. She took a deep breath and nodded once. Draco turned to go, but her voice stopped him.

"I still don't trust you." She said softly.

"I don't expect you to." Draco said, turning to her. She lifted her chin slightly, sniffing once more. Draco gave her a small reassuring smile before turning his back on her and opening the door. She followed him into the hall, her mind racing. They were halfway down the steps when Draco halted suddenly, twisting back towards her. "Did you hear that?" He asked, his voice tense. Without thinking, Draco reached out, gripping one of Hermione's hands and pulled her quickly after him as he descended the stairs. She gave a small cry of protest, but quieted and merely sped up so that the strain on her arm would decrease.

Draco was pulling her out a door, into the yard, when Hermione heard a noise behind her. Turning her head, she gasped. Standing in the hall watching her with cold, menacing eyes was Severus Snape. Standing at his side, battered and bleeding, was Ginny Weasley. Snape held her firmly by the arm, his wand pointed at her neck. Panic rose in Hermione and she pulled against Draco's hold on her, opening her mouth to call out, but a sickening feeling rose in her stomach as everything around her blurred and she squeezed her eyes shut. Almost instantly it was gone, but she felt nauseous and as soon as Draco released her hand she fell to her knees, breathing deeply.

Blinking back her tears, Hermione stared up Draco, her eyes wide and frightened. "We have to go back." She said, beginning to cry in earnest once more. Draco frowned at her, confused.

"No, we don't." He said, gesturing around him. "We'll be safe here." He said. Hermione glanced around her barely noticing the thick forest on one side of the clearing they were in, and the small village that lay to the other side.

"We have to go back." Hermione cried again, her voice desperate. The cat struggled free from her arms and fled. She looked after it longingly as it disappeared into the forest. "I saw him. I saw Snape. He has Ginny." Hermione sobbed. Draco blinked, feeling sick suddenly. He sat down beside her, a hand instinctively reaching out to touch Hermione's shoulder. He was surprised to find that her hands clutched at his tightly.

"We can't." Draco whispered. Hermione's hands dropped his and she covered her face, sobbing into them. He could do nothing but listen as she cried. Turning away, Draco stared at the village, waiting for Hermione's sobs to die so that he could persuade her to follow him. He knew that they were relatively safe for now, but staying out in the open like this left Draco feeling exposed and vulnerable. He wanted to get Hermione safely somewhere until he could figure out how to return her to her friends and family.


	14. Loyalties

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer:** Is this even still worth mentioning? I don't doubt the intelligence of anyone who's read this so far. I'm fairly certain you all realize that I'm not JK Rowling and don't own the rights to her novels or any of the characters and places.

**Author's Note:** Check out my c2. Good collection of Draco/Hermione stories. Not many there, but... I'll add more stories to it after I finish writing this one. Plus, each story in there is worth the read! Also, check out the c2 I'm staff of. They're unfinished stories, but still amazing.

Hope everyone's vastly commercial incredibly pointless unoriginal holiday went well.

There's a lot of dialogue in this one...I hope that doesn't take away from anything.

Enjoy!

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Chapter Fourteen  
_Loyalties_

Severus Snape stood before a screaming and crying Ginny Weasley. The girl was sitting before him, chained to a wooden chair. Her wrists were bound to the arms of the chair, while her ankles were lashed to the legs. On her left hand, three fingers were missing, cut off completely where they met her palm. Blood flowed freely from the wounds. She fought against her restraints, bucking her body to and fro but it did nothing. Her head shook violently from side to side throwing her long, red locks across her face. The screams issuing from her had become desperate. Snape watched her without any expression on his sallow face. He turned away from her, facing a corner of the room where Isabelle sat in a similar setting, only Isabelle was still, silent and uninjured. She glared at Snape, her head lowered slightly, giving her a look of an animal about to charge out of anger or fear.

"It would appear I am surrounded by incompetent fools, wouldn't you agree Miss Dubois?" Snape asked, nearing Isabelle. She lifted her head, turning it away slightly, as though ignoring him. Snape snarled in rage, lunging forward and grabbing her chin in his hand roughly. He pulled her face towards him, placing his own only inches from hers. "Look at me when I speak to you, you miserable little girl." He hissed.

"When my father hears about this you'll be dead." Isabelle warned. Snape laughed, releasing her chin and stepping back, folding his arms across his chest.

"You stupid girl, your father already has and he hasn't spoken one word in your defense." He said, watching Isabelle carefully. The shock that registered on her face made him laugh again. "All you children of Death Eaters are the same, you think daddy will bail you out the moment you screw up. But guess what; your daddy won't save you now. Nobody will."

"No! You can use me." Isabelle cried out, fighting against her restraints suddenly. Her blue eyes were wide with panic. Snape ignored her, turning his attention back to Ginny who had slumped in her chair dejectedly, though she was still sobbing silently. "Severus, you can use me as a spy." Isabelle pleaded. He turned on her suddenly, advancing quickly. She pulled back into the chair until she could pull back no more.

"A spy?" He asked, searching her face with his eyes. She nodded, biting her lip.

"If Draco thought I was sympathetic to his reasons for betraying us… if he thought that I was willing to go with him…" She was wildly grasping for ideas. Snape knew that it was impossible. Even if he let her go, she would never be able to locate Draco without the help of other Death Eaters and Snape knew that none would willingly help her. In most cases she would be killed for having let Hermione get away. "Please…" Isabelle begged, tears falling down her face.

"Why should he believe you? You have shown no mercy thus far, if what I have been told is correct. I might even dare say that your tactics are a bit more brutal than my own, which is quite strange isn't it, Isabelle? You did tell me that I was too harsh, too uncivilized, too cruel, perhaps even?" Snape's voice touched Isabelle liked the tongue of a snake, causing a shiver to send up her spine.

"So you're going to kill me then, is that it? Does Our Lord wish for my life to be traded for losing her?" Isabelle asked, lifting her head proudly. "I was fooled just as you all were. Why should I be punished for Draco's treason?" She continued, her eyes shining with new tears.

"No, Isabelle, I am not going to kill you." Snape said softly. Isabelle visibly relaxed.

"I can help you find her." She said and Snape laughed again. Isabelle frowned at him, trying not to let her tears fall anymore than they already had. "I can. I know spells to track Draco. I can track any use of his wand; I've done it before." Her voice was rising slightly as her panic rose once more.

"I'm capable of tracking the boy on my own, besides you'll be in no state to help anyone soon enough." Snape said, turning away from Isabelle. The panic touched her eyes, giving them a wild look and she pulled against her restraints.

"No, you said you weren't going to." She cried out. Snape glanced over his shoulder at Isabelle.

"Yes, but you will wish that I had." He said.

"She'll kill you." Ginny's voice said suddenly, though weakly through her tears. Isabelle's face snapped towards her. Ginny sniffed, hard, lifting her head to stare at them. Her eyes were pained, her skin was pale, and the blood that was leaving her was dripping down the chair and pooling on the ground leaving a large, growing red puddle of her life. "He'll tell her it was you and she will kill you." Ginny said, closing her eyes and turning her face away.

"What are you talking about?" Isabelle asked, her own voice weak sounding, and scared.

"Draco Malfoy. He'll tell her you killed my brother, and she will kill you." Ginny said calmly without opening her eyes or turning her face. She breathed in deeply, and then turned her face to Isabelle, opening her eyes and locking them on the other woman's. "I recognize your voice. I would do it myself if I could, but that honor belongs to her." The fierceness in Ginny's eyes caused a finger of fear to touch Isabelle, and soon an entire hand of the icy chill was gripping her heart.

* * *

Hermione Granger was sleeping while Draco sat near the window, looking out at the night sky. She kept crying out, but every time Draco turned to check on her, her eyes were still closed and she was lost in dreams. The cat, Mwynen, was curled up beside Hermione. She had returned to Draco and Hermione shortly after running away. Blood had spotted her fur, and she bore a rather nasty looking cut on her face. Hermione had dissolved into sobs once again at the sight of the cat, and Draco had to forcibly lift her to her feet. It had not gone over well with Hermione, for she had reacted violently, and he wasn't surprised. It had taken her a full minute to calm down and when she had, Draco picked up the cat and unceremoniously deposited her into Hermione's arms. She had hugged the cat close, murmuring softly to the creature. 

Now, Hermione was acting similarly. One arm was curled around the cat as Hermione lay on her side. Draco watched her sleep for a minute before feeling uncomfortable and looking back outside. She looked so sad, even in sleep, that it made something inside of him hurt for her. He had turned back to the window, his thoughts turning to his unfinished plans to return her safely to the Order when he heard her gasp sharply. He turned to see her sitting upright, her eyes wide. She was trembling. The cat meowed as it jumped from the bed startled.

"Where am I?" Hermione asked weakly, her eyes finding Draco's.

"You're safe, for now." Draco said. Hermione looked around the room, a slight frown marring her face. "Are you hungry?" Draco asked. Hermione nodded, giving him a slightly helpless look as if she didn't know what to do.

"Are you sure we're safe?" She asked. Draco didn't answer as he pulled out his wand. Hermione's eyes locked on it and immediately she was struggling to get out of the bed. Her legs became entangled in the blankets and she fell to the floor. Draco watched her with a bemused expression his face, but when she, on her knees, walked the short distance towards him, all the way cursing under her breath as she tried to untangle herself at the same time, and grabbed his wand from his hand he let out a sound of protest.

"What are you doing?" He asked. Hermione gave him a look that was plainly irritated.

"Don't use your wand." She said simply. He frowned at her, lifting one hand in question. "They'll track you." Her voice gave indication that she felt he should have known and realized this already. She walked to the table and set the wand down firmly.

"How is it that you even would think of that at a time like this?" Draco asked, honestly curious. Hermione sighed, making her way back towards the bed.

"How could you not?" She snapped at him, grabbing the blankets from the floor and shoving them onto the bed. She crawled onto the mattress, crossing her legs and proceeded to sit, simply watching Draco silently.

"Leave it to you to have a rational mind even after being tortured for so long." He muttered under his breath. Hermione flinched at the word torture, but she lifted one eyebrow.

"I am the smartest witch of our age. It shouldn't surprise you. Besides, you should have thought of it already." She said shortly, her irritation clearly growing. Draco sensed it had to do with her agitation and fear. He watched as she fidgeted. Somewhere outside their door there came a loud bang, and Hermione jumped, her eyes going wide, one hand holding the blanket in front of her tightly.

"You're safe." Draco said, trying to assuage her fears. Her eyes flashed to him for a moment before once more taking in the room around her. It was small, with only one bed, but there was a small couch along the wall, beside a small table holding Hermione's bag. The walls were bare and there was only one window.

"Have you used your wand since we arrived?" She asked sounding slightly distracted. Her eyes were trained on the window behind Draco.

"Once or twice." He said with a shrug. Her eyes locked on his and her mouth twitched before she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

"We're not safe then at all." She said softly. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "I am going back for Ginny, you know."

"No you're not. I'm taking you to the Order and they will rescue her." Draco said sharply. Hermione glared at him.

"Just like they rescued me?" She bitterly asked. "Don't fool yourself. If they couldn't get me they won't be able to get her." She said, her eyes welling with tears.

"What makes you think you can get her?" Draco asked.

"What makes you think I can't?" Her voice was hushed. The cat had jumped onto the bed again, and Hermione was petting it gently. Silence settled over the room. Draco watched Hermione pet the cat, struck by how gentle she was yet how fierce she could be when provoked.

"I risked everything to get you out of there and now you want to go back?" He asked, breaking the silence. Hermione nodded, looking into his eyes.

"I have to." She said, her voice thick with emotion. A tear fell onto her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. Draco sighed, looking out the window again.

"Well, I can't let you do it alone. You don't know near enough dark magic to protect yourself." He said resolutely. When he looked at Hermione her mouth had turned up slightly into a small smile. It seemed an understanding passed between them then, but neither fully understood what it meant.


	15. Despair

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize as JK Rowling's creation. 

**Author's Note: **Yoga is amazing. I recommend you all do it!

* * *

Chapter Fifteen  
_Despair_

"He's taken everything from me!" Harry Potter yelled, slamming a fist onto the table he was sitting at. His body was racked with sobs as he hunched forward, his forehead almost hitting the wood. Sitting beside him Molly Weasley put a hand on his back comfortingly, her own face pale and distraught. "Everything, he's taken absolutely everything. He took my parents. He took Sirius from me, and Dumbledore… then Hermione, now Ron and Ginny are gone." Harry cried, dissolving into loud, heart wrenching sobs that only got increasingly worse as they continued. Molly had to pull her hand away to press it against her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her own crying. She wanted to be here for Harry, but it was so difficult when so many of her loved ones had been hurt or killed during this war, and now her only daughter was missing.

It was Arthur Weasley that moved towards Harry, enveloping the boy ardently in his arms. Harry turned into Arthur's embrace and cried into the man's chest. Over Harry's head, Arthur's eyes met his wife and their heartbreak was mirrored in the other's eyes as they shone with tears. "She's much stronger than any of us could ever hope to be, Harry. Have faith in her that she will survive… Have faith that they both will survive, son." Arthur said gently. His voice washed over Harry like a comforting wave and eased his sobs away. Breathing deeply, Harry pulled away, reaching a hand out to Molly. She grasped it tightly, and he clung to her just as desperately.

"We're a family, Harry. You've always been a part of this family. We've got to keep strong for them. If we give up there's no hope for them to have courage." Molly said, leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek. "Ginny loves you, and Hermione…and so do your parents, and Sirius. Ron will always be with you, darling, and so will Dumbledore. You keep them in your heart, and there they will always stay. No one can take that from you no matter how hard they try." Molly's voice dissolved into tears and she couldn't continue, but now, Harry placed an arm lovingly around her, just as Arthur did the same. They stayed like that, a mourning family, for a long time soaking in the warmth of each other in a feeble attempt to heal their newly reopened wounds.

* * *

The small couch was not the most comfortable alternative to a bed, but Draco Malfoy was trying not to think of how the bent position of his body was affecting his ability to fall asleep. He stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts roaming to the girl sleeping in the bed across the room. They had hardly spoken since their conversation about rescuing Ginny. Hermione had taken up residence at the window, sitting on the ledge, the cat nestled in her lap. The entire time she had stared out the window she had bore a troubled look on her face. Draco had once or twice opened his mouth to ask her what was bothering her, but didn't want to disturb her thoughts. Instead, he had fished around in the bag of Hermione's clothes until his hand hit the hard spine of a book. It was the same book he had been reading each time he visited Hermione. 

It took him only two minutes to realize that he couldn't concentrate on the printed words before him, so with a sigh, Draco set the book down and let his eyes wander to watching Hermione. She had ceased looking out the window, and instead had fixed her gaze on the floor. Tears streaked her face. Draco was surprised; he had not realized she was crying. For a split second, Draco wondered if Hermione had stopped breathing. She was so still that she appeared to be a statue, but then her hand, which rested on the back of the cat twitched, her eyes blinked and her face turned slightly as she looked at him. Slightly embarrassed to be caught staring at her, Draco had picked up the book and opened it, with every intention of reading it, but once again found that he couldn't concentrate.

His thoughts were whirling around many things. He was now responsible for Hermione, whether he liked it or not. Though it was not, in his eyes, a good idea to rescue Ginny, he could not let Hermione traipse back into Isabelle's or Snape's hands. After everything that he had risked to rescue Hermione, they were about to risk it all again to save another Gryffindor he had once hated blindly. Blanching slightly at the name Gryffindor, Draco felt a small tinge of mirth at the irony: a snake coming to the aid of a lion. The mirth grew when Draco thought of how his father must be turning in his grave with the knowledge that his son had betrayed Voldemort and was now in the company of a Mudblood whose power, Draco was certain, surpassed every Pureblood's he had ever met.

That particular Mudblood had roused Draco from his thoughts with a small movement. She let her legs fall from the edge of the sill and they dangled above the floor. Draco's eyes were drawn to her feet. The small fact that she was not wearing shoes, and that her feet were dirty caused an irrational thought to occur in his mind. He was suddenly quite aware that his own feet were entrapped within socks and imagined them suffocating and begging to be free of the confines. This was not uncommon for Draco's imagination to play out in such a way: giving inanimate objects, such as feet or a rock, the ability to convey human emotion or thought. Just as quickly as the thought had come, it had died away, leaving Draco staring at Hermione's dirty feet.

The feet descended onto the floor, and Draco lifted his eyes to see Hermione staring at him oddly. She said nothing, but walked quickly to the bed, crawling onto it and sliding her feet and legs beneath the blankets. Her eyes remained trained on him and, he noted, they held a slightly suspicious glint to them. "You never mentioned if this was a Muggle or Wizarding town." She said, her voice soft, though with a small edge.

"Wizard." His reply came, nearly as softly. He was suddenly very aware of how tired he was. It seemed that Hermione's feelings mirrored his own. She yawned, stretching slightly, lowering her head onto the pillow and then turned onto her side so that her back was facing Draco. He rose from his seat and made his way to the candles that lit the room, blowing them out, and grabbed an extra blanket from the table as he did so. Now, hours later, the room was completely silent, but for the purring of the cat sleeping with Hermione. Perhaps it was the stillness of the room and lack of noise that seemed to amplify the sound. In any case, Draco decided to blame that for his inability to sleep. Really, it was his thoughts and the cramped couch that were the culprits.

Overall, perhaps it was the concept of such devote loyalty to another human being that was troubling Draco so much. He had never known friendship in the way that Hermione knew it. The idea of brazenly stepping into a dangerous situation to save the life of another was foreign to Draco. Yes, he had rescued Hermione, but he had done everything in secrecy, making sure that he would not be caught or killed in the process. When the Order had attempted to rescue Hermione they had arrived ready to die, and one of them had died for her. Ron Weasley was yet another trouble plaguing Draco. Try as he might, he could not erase the image of Ron laying lifeless on the ground, his sister and friend showing their broken hearts clearly in their eyes. Nor could Draco erase the pain that remained in Hermione's eyes constantly, sometimes dimly, but others so starkly that it made him hurt in empathy.

Presently having been under the assumption that Hermione was asleep, the sound of her voice caused him to jump. His heart beating fast in response, he sat up immediately. Having been so completely immersed in his thoughts, he had not clearly heard what she said. Though the room was dark, his eyes had long since adjusted to the faint light that drifted in through the window near the bed. Hermione was a vague shadow in the middle of the bed. "What?" He asked, into the darkness.

"I asked if you were sleeping. You were mumbling an awful lot a bit ago, and I couldn't tell if you were talking to yourself or talking in your sleep." She said. The embarrassment Draco had felt earlier paled in comparison to what he felt now. Draco's face burned, and he was thankful for the lack of light that would prevent Hermione from seeing.

"Oh, I didn't say anything too embarrassing, did I?" He asked, laughing nervously. There was silence for several moments, which caused Draco to panic and assume that he had said something worth regretting, but then Hermione's voice came, trembling with emotion.

"I think you were apologizing to Ron…" She said, and even though Draco could not see her, he knew that she was crying. There came the sound of sniffing, and the rustling movement of her pushing the blankets away from her, and the shadow that was Hermione rose to a sitting position. "Did she use the Killing Curse?" She asked, her voice so low that Draco had to strain to hear her. The question, not to mention the previous statement, hit him like a knife in the chest, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Yes. He didn't suffer." Draco said, trying to add some form of comfort, but apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Much to Draco's surprise the candles in the room suddenly flared to life, illuminating the livid face of Hermione, wet with tears. She glared at him as he blinked in bewilderment at the sudden light. "You can do wandless magic?" He asked, but his question was not answered. Instead Hermione's anger flew at him like a dozen arrows.

"How can you say whether he suffered or not? Have you felt the pain of the curse as it kills you? How do you know that it doesn't tear your very soul apart with pain when it hits? How can you be so certain to know that he felt no suffering as he died?" She nearly screamed, tears coursing down her face. Her body was shaking with emotion. Draco didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent. "He did suffer! Don't you see that? He loved me and that wretched man took me away from him! He suffered every moment that I did!" She cried, hugging herself tightly around her stomach. The cat that had been sleeping peacefully beside her was now scared and fled for refuge beneath the bed, meowing somewhat pitifully as it went. Hermione continued to cry, until quite suddenly she stopped and stared at the burning candles. Her eyes were wide.

"So you didn't know you can do wandless magic, then." Draco murmured under his breath, not wanting to recapture the attention, and subsequently the wrath of Hermione.


	16. Dependency

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer:** This is the broken record of: 'I still do not own.' 

**Author's Note:** I have over 3,000 hits and what I want to know, is why are so few of you reviewing? It either means my story actually is lame, or you're all lazy. Even something so small as "I like it." Or a smiley face will suffice. Maybe even a "this is absolute rubbish?" Keep doing what you're doing, though. It's of no consequence to me. I have a faithful few that never fail to praise my story and remind me that they want more.

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Chapter Sixteen  
_Dependency_

The sound of rain greeted Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger when they woke the next morning. The former groaned, wincing at the pain in his back, while the latter stretched serenely and smiled as one of her hands touched the warm, soft furry body of the cat sleeping beside her. The smile vanished slowly as Hermione opened her eyes to find a dreary, dark room around her. There was no sunlight shining through the window, but as Hermione lifted on one arm, an eyebrow quirked, she stared intently at a single candle on the table and it flickered feebly to life. The smile once again touched her lips and she turned to Draco who was watching her.

"Did you see that?" She asked excitedly. When the only response that came was a noncommittal grunt she frowned, crossing her arms over her lap. "You're certainly not a morning person." She said causing Draco to shoot her an annoyed glare.

"Yes, well I doubt you'd be little Miss Sunshine if you were my height and had to sleep on a couch of this size." He bit out. He expected some sort of sassy retort to come from Hermione and was surprised to find none. She blinked in realization, fully looking at the couch and Draco for the first time.

"You should sleep in the bed tonight." She said, still frowning. Unable to resist, Draco smirked at her, leaning back into the couch.

"Should I now? A bit lonely for company are we, Granger?" He said, slipping somewhat into the drawl Hermione had become very familiar with during their school years. Instantly Hermione's face reddened as she blushed.

"No! I meant that you should sleep in the bed. Alone. I would sleep on the couch." She hurriedly said, tripping over her words slightly. Draco chuckled, dropping the smirk from his face and giving her a good-natured smile.

"I was joking. I knew what you meant." He watched Hermione fidget, still flustered.

"Oh." She said softly, looking up at him sheepishly. She clasped her hands together in her lap, twisting her mouth slightly to the side, one eye squinting closed. Draco couldn't help it. He laughed. "What?" She asked, her face going normal.

"Do you even realize you're doing that?" He asked. Hermione frowned, looking around the room as if expecting some sort of hint as to what he meant. She found none.

"What are you talking about?" She demanded, leaning forward slightly.

"Your face expressions…are so comical sometimes." He said. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I should have guessed it would be you making fun of the way I look." She said, kicking the blanket away from her with her feet. Draco once again spotted her bare feet and was on his feet instantly. Hermione stopped moving, throwing him a cautious glance. "What are you doing?" She asked, her voice wary.

"I'm getting you shoes." He said simply.

"Why?" Hermione asked sounding thoroughly confused. After living for so long without shoes, it just seemed natural for her not to be wearing them.

"Because civilized individuals don't walk around with dirty feet all day." Draco stated, grabbing Hermione's bag of clothes and tossing it onto the bed. "Get dressed. I figure we can apparate to another town, Muggle preferably, I'll do a bit of magic with my wand to throw whoever may be tracking me off the trail, get you some shoes and then apparate back here and figure out what to do about your friend." He explained.

Hermione didn't say anything but began picking through the clothes. She found the green sweater she had worn to the dinner and tightened her fist around a portion of the fabric pulling it away from the rest of the clothes. Somewhat absentmindedly she found the worn Muggle jeans and a white shirt. The cat had jumped onto the bed and was butting her head against Hermione's arm begging for attention. Draco cleared his throat and Hermione looked up at him quickly, pushing the cat away, grabbing the clothes and heading for the small bathroom adjoining the room. She made quick work of changing, making it a point not to look at herself in the mirror. Bruises were still fading on her skin, and she didn't like to look at them.

Reemerging, Hermione found Draco casually leaned against the table, the cat at his feet meowing plaintively. He was ignoring Mwynen steadfastly. The poor cat placed her front paws on Draco's legs, begging. His only response was to swear, when her claws pierced through his pants and into his skin, and then shake his leg to be rid of her. The cat shot him an indignant look before racing once more beneath the bed. Hermione watched the entire exchange with a wry smile. "So I take it you're not a cat person, then?" She asked.

Draco looked up, noticing for the first time that she was in the room. He shrugged, pushing himself off the table. "Out of everything you could pick to wear, you choose green." He said, staring at the sweater. Hermione frowned, plucking at the sweater with her forefinger and thumb, pulling it away from her stomach.

"What's wrong with green?" She asked, glancing down at the sweater.

"Nothing. It's just a very Slytherin thing to wear." He said, turning to the door. His back was to Hermione, but he heard her give a small noise at that. He couldn't tell if it was a sigh or a laugh.

"I happen to like green despite it's unsavory ties to such a despicable House." Hermione's voice said from behind him as he stepped into the hall. Draco heard the sound of her footsteps following him, and then heard the click of the door closing and locking. His mouth turned up involuntarily at her remark. He didn't look back as he descended the steps, but paused at the bottom, waiting for her to catch up. She hopped from the bottom step, her face twisted slightly in pain.

Balancing on one foot, Hermione attempted to lift the other to look at the bottom. Both hands were wrapped tightly around the foot as she squinted at it. She swayed precariously but Draco did not move to help her. He had slowly begun to learn that physical contact with Hermione was a bad idea. Hermione continued to sway until she pitched forward suddenly with a surprised cry. On instinct, Draco quickly, and deftly, caught her by her arms, lifting her up. She went rigid at his touch but did not fight to get away. Once she was stable and standing, she pulled away from him quickly.

"I was fine." She said firmly, avoiding his gaze. Draco rolled his eyes, turning his back on her.

"Of course you were." He said patronizingly.

"Malfoy, wait." Hermione called after him as he walked away. He stopped, turning to look back at her, an inquiring look on his face. She had one hand on the railing of the stairs and was standing on one foot again. "I stepped on something." She said, plainly irritated.

"Oh come on now, it can't hurt that bad, can it?" Draco asked, walking back towards her. Hermione glared at him, pursing her lips.

"I need you to help me get outside the door, then we'll apparate and you can mend my foot." Hermione said. Draco sighed, coming even closer. Awkwardly, Draco put one arm around her back, resting his hand on her waist as she leaned against him, hobbling beside him as they walked. Once they were outside, without warning Draco apparated and Hermione found herself on her knees, vomiting into wet, green grass. Draco stepped away from her quickly. "Thank you for the warning, Malfoy." She said dryly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Not a problem at all." He said, just as dryly. He knelt beside her, careful to stay away from the emptied contents of her stomach and pulled out his wand, pointing it at her foot. The moment he said the spell, Hermione felt the pain in her foot diminish and she hopped up jumping from one foot to the other.

"Thank you." She said, much more sincerely this time. Draco shrugged, slightly irritated, but a little unsure of the cause and glanced toward a dirt road nearby that led to a town fairly close. He rose to his feet, looking down at the shoeless Hermione and weighed his options.

"Would you like to wait here?" Draco asked, glancing back at the village. For a girl with no shoes the walk would be tougher than for a boy with shoes. The panic that hit Hermione's face and eyes was instant. She stepped closer to him, wringing her hands in front of her. "I'd leave the wand with you." He said. Biting her lip, Hermione stayed silent as she contemplated the idea. Her eyes took in the distance to the town and then glanced down at her bare feet.

"Would you apparate closer so that you saved time?" She asked, turning to him with frightened eyes.

"Of course." Draco said, having not thought of the idea himself. Fidgeting, Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other, continually biting her lip. With a heavy sigh she slumped slightly giving Draco a dejected look.

"Alright, fine, but if anything happens you'll have to apparate to Muggle London to find me." She said. Draco held out his wand, which Hermione clutched in her hand as if it were her only lifeline on the brink of death. Turning toward the village, Draco apparated at the same instant that he felt Hermione's hand touch his arm. Her fingers grasped his arm firmly the moment she felt the pull of apparition. The second the world stopped spinning for her, she retracted her hand only to slap him firmly on the arm.

"You were just going to apparate away without warning me!" She cried, hitting him again. Draco moved away from her, rubbing the place on his arm that she had hit. When he looked at her face, he saw that she had tears in her eyes. "I changed my mind." She said, wiping at the tears on her face. She thrust the wand toward Draco. He took it, watching her carefully, as if unsure whether she would hit him again.

"I'm sorry." He said lamely. "I didn't think."

"You've got learn to do that, Malfoy, or else you're going to get yourself killed. Or you're going to get me killed." Hermione said, sniffing. She fixed him with a steady stare and said, "You can't just leave like that…if we're going to work together, which it seems like we are, we've got to actually work together. You've got to tell me when you're going to leave…" She trailed off, looking down at her hands. Draco sensed that there was more she wanted to say, but she didn't say anything more.

"I already said I was sorry." He said, a bit more harshly than he should have. Hermione's eyes jerked up to glare at him. She straightened, squared her shoulders and walked away from him. Draco sighed, jogging to catch up with her. She was capable of walking very fast, he now saw. "Hermione, would you please stop?" He asked. He did not expect for her to stop quite as suddenly as she did. She whirled on him with narrowed eyes.

"Don't call me that." She said fiercely, and Draco noticed the deeply troubled look that had settled in her eyes. "Please, do not call me that." She repeated, this time her voice softer, but her eyes were just as troubled. She stared at him for a few seconds before once again turning and walking away from him. Draco shook his head, following her. It appeared that working with Hermione Granger was going to be a lot more difficult than he had thought.


	17. Omen

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer: **Blah blah blah blah BLAH.

**Author's Note:**This chapter and maybe the next two? Maybe only one… will focus only on Draco/Hermione. So for those of you that are concerned about Harry and Ginny, or anyone else, be patient and you will learn soon enough what is going on with them. (Honestly, I don't even know what's going on with them yet. I have nothing of this story planned out ahead of time when I come to write these chapters.)

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Chapter Seventeen  
_Omen_

"Those are incredibly hideous." Draco said in disgust, staring at the shoes that Hermione held in her hands. She pushed her bottom lip out, wrinkling her nose and shoved the shoes back onto the shelf where they had come from. She stuck her tongue out childishly before turning to continue looking. "Really, what are Muggles thinking when they make these awful things?" Draco asked, eyeing the shoes he was passing with open disdain.

"It's astounding how little your snobbery of all things Muggle has changed, despite your claims to disagree with your very vile Lord." Hermione said over her shoulder. Draco scoffed at her.

"That's completely unfair. I rescued you didn't I?" He said, lengthening his stride so that he was at her side. "Obviously I have some form of respect for Muggle life if I refused to watch a Muggle-born suffer as you were." He glanced around him at the store, eyeing the various Muggles warily.

"They aren't pestiferous, Malfoy." Hermione said shortly, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He looked at her doubtfully.

"How can you be so sure?" He asked, his voice soft.

"I'm shocked that you even know what that word means." Hermione said, a small laugh to her words, ignoring his question. Draco shot her a reproachful glare, placing one hand on his hip.

"Are you implying that you think I'm stupid?" He asked incredulously. Hermione said nothing, but shrugged, lifting her hands slightly in an almost apologetic way. Draco glared at her. "I'm not stupid!" He declared adamantly.

"Of course not." Hermione said, in the same patronizing manner that Draco had used earlier with her, being careful to use nearly the exact words that he had.

"I resent that. I may not have been Head Boy, but I could have been if I wanted." Draco said sullenly, glaring at Hermione's back. She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, an odd expression on her face.

"Yes, but you were too busy trying to kill people like me." Her voice was soft and tinged with sadness. Draco opened his mouth to speak but stopped, realizing there was nothing he could say. She was right. It appeared that Hermione wanted to say more, but at that moment, a man's voice interrupted their conversation.

"Excuse me, Miss, but I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to vacate the premises." The man's voice was polite enough, but he was looking at Hermione as though she were a cockroach climbing through his dinner. Draco frowned, looking from Hermione to the man.

"And why is this?" Draco asked, clearly irritated, turning to face the man completely. Hermione glanced at him quickly, placing a hand on his arm, and then stepped slightly in front of Draco.

"Yes, Sir, I understand the policy about shoes being worn in the store, but mine were stolen, you see. It was dreadfully foolish of me, really…" Hermione said, her voice friendly and good-natured. The man eyed her suspiciously, but she continued with a smile, "But anyway, I'll only be another moment." The man merely stared at her.

"That's rather unfortunate, Miss, but I'm afraid that's irrelevant in any case. Please, leave willingly or we will have our security escort you." The man said finally, in a rather snippy tone. Hermione's smile instantly turned into a glare, accompanied by a frown, and Draco turned away from the man, grabbing a pair of small flat-soled, slip-on, black shoes.

"Are these your size?" He asked handing them to Hermione at the same instant the free hand disappeared into his jacket pocket. A black wallet reappeared with his hand, and Draco flipped it open, pulling out more money than was necessary. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise when she saw that it was Muggle money he held. "I'm sure this will cover the cost, Sir." Draco said, slapping the money onto the man's chest with a cold smile. The man said nothing, one hand rising to take the money from Draco's hand.

"Actually, they're not…" Hermione said, alternating between looking at the shoes, Draco and the store employee. Draco scoffed, then turned to Hermione with a smirk.

"Find your size then, and take your time." He said, and Hermione hurriedly did, tearing the tags off the shoes and slipping them onto her feet. She shot the man an apologetic look that was returned with an icy glare. "What a rude man." Draco said, glancing behind him as they walked to the entrance of the store.

"You have Muggle money." Hermione said as she pushed against the door, giving Draco a quizzical look. It swung open easily, and then pulled away from her hands as Draco pressed a palm above her head to hold it open for her.

"Yes, I do." Draco said, glancing at her, almost with a bored expression.

"Why?" She asked. Draco smirked, beginning to walk back the way they had come earlier.

"You shouldn't underestimate me, Granger. I am always prepared." He said simply, shooting her a smile.

"No, you're not." She pointed out, hurrying her pace so that she could keep up with him. "You didn't bring shoes for me."

"That's besides the point, don't you think?" He asked, but Hermione shook her head.

"No. If you had thought ahead and brought some, then we wouldn't have needed to come here and buy these." She said, wrinkling her nose as she looked at her feet. "They're awful. I may as well be wearing no shoes at all."

"Never satisfied, are we?" Draco asked lightly. They fell into silence as they continued to walk, and only when they had reached the very beginnings of the field they had originally apparated into did Draco acknowledge Hermione's presence. "Are you ready?" He asked, extending a hand to Hermione.

"I believe I can do it myself, thank you." She said politely. Draco shot her an irritated look and then disappeared completely. Hermione sighed. "No surprise there." She muttered just as she felt the familiar pull of apparition. Instantly she was standing beside Draco, upright and feeling fine. It seemed that only side-along apparition caused her to feel ill. She returned his annoyed glare before turning her attention to her surroundings. They were in the same clearing that Draco had initially brought them to, with the town a small ways away and a line of trees to their other side. Frowning, Hermione stared at the town before turning completely and then staring at the trees.

"Where are we?" She demanded her voice strained. She turned to Draco with a frightened look settling onto her face.

"Italy. It's a small Wizarding village that an aunt of mine took me to one summer as a child. It was much nicer then, but I'm sure when we're children everything seems nicer." He explained. Hermione bit her lip, staring at the village intently.

"I've been here before." She said, her voice soft and scared.

"What? When?" Draco was surprised. Hermione turned her eyes on him and he was struck by how much pain was being held within them. Fear was shining in them, alongside the hurt.

"I've dreamt of it." She whispered, turning to look at the trees. Draco's attention was drawn to her hands. They were shaking at her side, and she balled them into fists to hide it. "I've died here." She said finally.

"What?" Draco asked, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him.

"No, it's nothing. It can't be the same place. No, I'm just imagining things. That's all." Hermione said, shaking her head. She continued to talk softly under her breath, her brows knitted together in a deep frown. She brushed Draco's hand off her arm and began to walk towards the village.

"Look, I know you don't believe in Divination, but dreams can be a powerful means of communication when the need arises." Draco said, jogging to catch up with her. Hermione continued to shake her head.

"I never said I didn't believe in it. I just think it's rubbish, is all." Hermione said.

"What? That doesn't make any sense." Draco replied.

"It's nothing. Silly imagination playing tricks with my memory." Hermione whispered. Draco grabbed her arm once more, pulling her to a stop. She turned to him with a look of absolute and undisguised fear on her face. "I'm going to die here, aren't I?" She asked, her voice trembling.

"No, you're not." Draco adamantly said. "I won't let you."

"I don't think you'll have much say in the matter." Hermione whispered, tears filling her eyes. She looked away from Draco for only a moment before looking back into his eyes. He shook his head at her offering a small smile.

"Yes I do. You've got a friend depending on you, and I won't have you letting her down, not after all the trouble I've gone through keeping you alive so far." Draco said and Hermione felt her lips turn up in a small smile. She wiped the tears off her face and sighed. Neither said anything else, but walked back to the village in silence. Both Draco and Hermione were far too immersed in their thoughts for conversation. When they entered the room, Hermione immediately sat on the couch, curling into a ball. Draco wanted to say something to comfort her, but couldn't find the right words to do so. He sat at the table, staring at the floor for quite some time, until the cat came and sat in front of him meowing in a begging manner.

"She's hungry, I'd wager." Hermione said in a small voice. Draco suddenly felt very stupid.

"I imagine you are as well." He turned to her with a sigh. "I'm sorry I didn't think to ask you earlier, I just wasn't hungry myself." He apologized.

"It's really fine. I've gone longer without food. It won't be what kills me." She said, a wry smile settling on her lips. She lowered her head onto the arm of the couch as the smile died away, her face sad and withdrawn. Draco stared at her, unsure what to do or say.

"I'll bring you something." He finally settled on, but Hermione didn't respond. Rising to his feet, Draco walked past her and to the door. He looked back at her, his heart breaking slightly at the pain he knew she was feeling. Deciding it would be best to leave her alone with her thoughts, he left the room in search of food for Hermione, himself and Mwynen.


	18. Solace

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer: **I wish, but alas… 

**Author's Note:** I'm always pleased to see reviews! Thank you all so much! I promise to continue updating quickly, though in about a week and a half I'll be moving houses and may not have Internet right away. If that happens, I'll be sure to update several chapters at the same time, once it is available to me at home, to make up for it.

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Chapter Eighteen  
_Solace_

Hermione sighed, nestling her face into the crook of her arm as she rested against the arm of the couch. The door clicked closed behind Draco and her eyes closed simultaneously. When she opened them she lifted her head, staring at a dark fireplace looming before her. Her eyes lifted to the mantle where a framed still photo sat. Ron Weasley was smiling in the photograph, his arms lovingly wrapped around Hermione. Hermione's face in the photograph was turned toward Ron, her face lit up beautifully with a smile. In contrast to the cold darkness around it, the photograph seemed unusually bright and warm. It hurt Hermione to look at it, so she looked away, her feet swinging out from underneath her to hit the padded floor. She placed one hand firmly of the arm of the couch and pushed herself to stand.

Hermione wasn't sure what had compelled her to apparate home, but she was beginning to regret it sorely. Her feet seemed to automatically guide her through the dark house. She found herself in the kitchen, staring at the small table. Her hands felt the hard wood and she bent over it, her tears dotting the surface. Through the darkness, she thought she could almost hear the joyful voices of her cousins on the fateful day that they had died. She pressed one hand to her mouth, as if trying to muffle her sobs. It did little to help. Abruptly she turned, fleeing the kitchen, only to pass a mirror hanging on the hallway wall. Her eyes were drawn to a sudden movement within it and she gasped in horror as, behind her, she saw her cousin standing on the bottom step of her stairs. Katherine's bright blue eyes shone in the darkness.

Whirling around, her heart racing, Hermione found nothing. She sobbed uncontrollably, her feet leading her to the stairs. One hand slid onto the banister while the other reached out, her fingertips touching the wall momentarily before falling back down at her side. Her feet lifted, one after the other, until she had reached the topmost step. She paused here, staring down the dark hallway, afraid and hurting. The lights suddenly flared up around her, and she looked around, her terror racing, until she had realized that subconsciously she had willed the lights to come to life. She covered the distance to her bedroom door quickly, pushing it open. As she stepped inside, her tears seemed to fall with even greater vigor, her feet continuing to lead her to the vanity near one of the windows in her room.

Her fingertips brushed the perfume bottle sitting on the vanity, and disturbed a tube of lipstick causing it to roll slightly until it reached the edge of the vanity's top and fell to the floor, landing on the carpeted floor hardly making a sound. She had rarely used these things, but seeing them now, as they were the night she had been captured brought back painful memories of the few times they had adorned her body and lips. Squeezing her eyes shut against her tears did nothing to stop Ron's face from materializing in her mind. She turned away, clutching a hand to her heart, her sobs reigning unchecked, until suddenly, she whirled back to face the vanity with a small cry. The hand at her heart darted forward grasping a small silver object that lay beside the perfume bottle. It was a silver ring bearing a beautiful emerald, encased on either side with hearts, whose bottommost points melted smoothly into the encircling band. Her hand closed in a fist, bringing the ring up to her chest, thinking intently of the room she had left in the village in Italy.

Looking around, Hermione was no longer standing in her bedroom, but was facing an obviously worried Draco. He stared at her, his eyes wide. "Where did you go?" He demanded. "I came back to see if you wanted to join me. I felt foolish leaving you alone and I came back to find you were gone!" He shouted.

"I went home." Hermione whispered. Draco's worry changed quickly to anger. He was livid. Stepping forward, her grasped her upper arms roughly. He ignored her tears, or perhaps in his upset state he simply did not notice them.

"Are you that incredibly daft?" He hissed, shaking her slightly. She went rigid, but the hand holding the ring loosened, and it fell onto the table beside them with a small ping. Draco's face snapped toward the sound.

"You're hurting me." Hermione whimpered and Draco's hands instantly released her. He stepped away, running a hand through his hair.

"Of all the hypocritical things to do." Draco snapped, glaring at her. Hermione hugged herself tightly, retreating to the bed and climbing onto it, resting her back against the headboard, her knees drawn up to her chest. "You lectured me about leaving without telling you, and look what you've done? Do you have any idea how stupid that was of you to do? Don't you realize they would assume you would want to go home?" Draco said, his anger draining away to frustrated worry. Hermione refused to look at him. It seemed in that moment that Draco realized she was crying. He stared at her almost dumbly.

"I'm sorry." She said finally, her words thick with tears. She looked up at him and it was Draco's turn to look away. He couldn't stand to see the pain she held in her eyes. "I just wanted to go home. You have no idea…" She said, crying into her hands now. Draco awkwardly came forward, sitting near her on the bed, and lay a hand on her arm. She looked up at him, sniffing.

"You're right, I haven't got any idea whatsoever what you're feeling. I'm sorry for hurting you." He said gently. Hermione nodded but then shoved her face into her hands once more, her body shaking violently with her sobs. Draco carefully put an arm around her, still feeling awkward but knowing that Hermione probably just needed comfort. He assumed that she would have pulled away or pushed him away, but to his surprise she fell against him, one of her arms wrapping tightly around his back as she pressed into him. He simply held her as she cried until she eventually did pull away from him.

"I'm sorry. This is all dreadfully embarrassing." She said, wiping her eyes. Draco moved away from her, not knowing what to do or say. "It won't happen again." Hermione said, looking into Draco's eyes.

"I can't protect you if I don't know where you are." He settled on. Hermione nodded, sniffing and wiping at her face again as she looked around.

"Please forget this happened…" She said, biting her lip. "I'm sorry to put you in this position."

"Well, let's get you some food then. You'll feel better once you've eaten and can spend time cuddling with that ridiculous cat of yours." Draco said, trying to keep his voice light. Hermione nodded, rising to her feet. They walked, Draco slightly ahead of Hermione, towards the door, but Hermione paused at the table, her fingers nimbly picking up the ring and sliding it onto the middle finger of her right hand. Draco glanced back at her.

"It's a wonderful coincidence I wasn't wearing this the day I was captured. It would have been lost forever." Hermione said, her fingers still on the ring. Draco appraised it before facing forward again.

"It's green." He said, and Hermione chuckled.

"Yes, it is." She murmured, a small smile on her face, the fingers of her left hand caressing the emerald gently.

Fifteen minutes later, the two re-entered the room chatting amiably. Hermione settled herself on the foot of the bed, her mouth full of a bagel as she spoke. Draco shot her a disgusted look as he sat at the table, placing a couple sandwiches, some bottles of water and various small bags of chips on it. "That's quite unbecoming, you know." He said dryly. Hermione grinned at him, her lips shut tightly as she chewed. She swallowed and then shot him a toothy grin.

"Yes, but I'm not trying to be charming. Charm is such a pointless attribute." She said, picking pieces of the bagel off and placing them in her mouth. Draco shook his head.

"Merlin save the poor bastard that marries you." Draco said, and Hermione's hand stopped on its way to her mouth. Her eyes darted away from Draco as she tried to hide the sudden pain in them. Draco mentally kicked himself. He needed to be more careful in what he said. "I didn't mean…" he trailed off, closing his mouth and looking down at his feet. When he looked back up at Hermione she was smiling at him, though he could still see the pain in her eyes.

"I know you didn't mean it that way. You're right in any case. Ron used to say similar things." Hermione said, letting her smile fade gradually as she continued to eat. The cat jumped onto the bed and meowed. Draco began disassembling a sandwich and pulling the meat out. He threw small pieces onto the bed, which the cat hungrily leapt on.

"Was the ring a gift from him?" Draco asked, nodding toward the emerald sitting on Hermione's finger. He was unsure if the topic would go over well with Hermione, but she smiled at him again, her eyes shining with tears.

"Yes. He gave it to me a year ago." She said. The tears did not fall onto her face. "He said it was a promise that some day he would give me a wedding ring. It cost him a fortune, too. You know the Weasley's have never been well off with money. I told him it was silly, but he insisted." She continued, ending with a sigh.

"It's beautiful." Draco offered, and Hermione's smile widened.

"I think Ginny picked it out, actually. Ron always detested my love of green. He said it reminded him far too much of Slytherins. When I saw it I knew Ginny probably helped. Left on his own, Ron would have settled for something like an amethyst." Hermione explained, then stopped, giving Draco an odd look. "Is this fine for you to talk about? I'm sure I'm boring you, aren't I?" She asked.

"I don't mind if you don't." He said. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to talk about anything involving Ron." Draco threw more meat to the cat. He could hear Mwynen purring happily, and Hermione began to pet the cat as it ate.

"Some days its harder than others. Today it's not." Hermione said simply. Her eyes strayed to the window. "How do you suppose we should get Ginny back?" She asked, changing the subject.

Draco sighed, unsure how to answer, but soon they were discussing all possible ideas. They remained that way for several hours, until Hermione yawned and stretched. Draco noticed how tired she looked. He suggested she nap, and as soon as she had settled into the bed with the cat curled at her side, he left the room. He wandered aimlessly outside losing himself in his thoughts. He was determined to find a sturdy, competent plan to rescue Ginny Weasley.


	19. Salvation

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer:** I'm tired of being repetitive. 

**Author's Note:** I'm not quite sure how to even begin to start romance between this version of Draco and Hermione. I think it's out of place…so bear with me as this may take a while for it to reach that point.

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Chapter Nineteen  
_Salvation_

Draco had returned to the room much later, the sun sinking below the horizon. Hermione was sitting on the ledge of the window again, with her knees near her chest, the cat curled at her feet. She gave Draco a brief glance as he entered and closed the door, but said nothing. One of her hands lifted, touching the cool glass. "It's beautiful outside." She said, after Draco had sat down on the couch. He gave her a curious look.

"But it looks like it's going to start raining again." Draco said. Hermione smiled, turning her face to him.

"The rain is beautiful. It washes everything clean." She said. Draco shrugged, turning sideways, so that his back was supported on one of the couch's arm and propped his feet on the opposite arm.

"Yeah, and it also leaves everything a muddy mess." He replied, staring at his shoes. The bottoms of them were caked with mud. Hermione followed his gaze and wrinkled her nose. Draco had noticed that she did that often.

"You're going to get everything dirty. You should take them off." She said, swinging her feet to the floor. She pushed herself off the ledge and made her way to the table, where Draco had deposited more food before sitting. She grabbed a piece of bread and bit into it. "Besides, bare feet feel better." She said, sitting on the bed and wiggling her toes as she flexed her feet.

"You just want me to take off my shoes in hopes that I'll strip completely, don't you Granger?" Draco smirked, deciding to tease her. Hermione laughed derisively.

"Am I that transparent, Malfoy?" She asked, wrinkling her nose again. "No offense, but the thought completely disgusts me." She said, laughing again. Draco shrugged.

"Your loss." He winked at her, trying to contain his smile, but when Hermione laughed again, he let it fall onto his face freely.

"Right, my loss." She said, pulling her legs up so that she was sitting cross-legged. "I was worried when I woke up and you weren't here. But then I saw you walking around outside through the window."

"I didn't want to wake you when I left, I'm sorry." He said, but Hermione shrugged with one shoulder, waving a hand in the air.

"It's nothing compared to what I did. Let's call it even." She said with another smile. Her happiness was likely to be short lived, in Draco's eyes, and he feared the imminent sorrow that would follow.

"Actually, we aren't." He pointed out, but she simply waved her hand in the air as if dismissing the topic of conversation. "I was thinking about visiting another town, using my wand a bit, picking up some things for you to wear that are nicer than this, getting some clothes for myself, and then returning." He said.

"That sounds fine. I was going to try to come up with some more plans for Ginny's rescue." Hermione said, snapping her fingers together to gain the cat's attention. Mwynen's ears perked up and she jumped from the window's ledge to the bed.

"I'll see you in a bit then." Draco said before disappearing. Hermione's smile fell off her face instantly, turning into a deep frown. She looked at the window and then rose to her feet. When she had woken earlier she had felt a presence in the room with her, but there had been no one. Not wanting to worry Draco she had said nothing, but it troubled her nonetheless. She stared out the window until Mwynen hissed behind her and she whirled. Gasping, one hand rose to Hermione's throat when she saw a woman standing in the corner of the room. The woman was dressed in white, her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders. More than just the sudden appearance of the woman, it was her face that disturbed Hermione the most.

The chestnut curls and honey colored eyes were the same as Hermione's, as were each contour and line. It was like looking into a mirror, but this woman's face bore no bruises, only a deep sorrow that seemed to be etched into each feature. The woman stared at her without blinking, one hand rising to her chest, covering her heart. She lowered her head slightly, continued to stare at Hermione, lifting her other slim, white hand and pointed at the window. "You must run." The woman whispered.

"Run?" Hermione asked, her voice nearly frantic. The woman shook her head, lowering both hands to her side. She took a step forward, but then stepped back again, shrinking against the wall as if scared.

"They are coming." The woman whispered, turning her face to the side. Hermione blinked and the woman was gone. She cried out moving forward to where the woman had stood. Her hands felt cold when she touched the air, but there was nothing there. Tears filled her eyes as confusion, fear and frustration settled over Hermione. She didn't know what to do, or where Draco was. Fumbling back to the bed, she sat heavily, trembling with fear. Mwynen had fled beneath the bed, and Hermione desperately wished that she hadn't and was sitting beside her so that she could pet her. Hermione had moved toward the edge of the bed, to get the cat when she stopped, hearing a loud bang from outside the door to the room.

She was on her feet instantly, racing for the table. Her hands dove into the bag of clothes searching for the galleon Draco had charmed for her, but she could not find it. She grabbed the bag and carried it to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her, and continued to search, her back against the door. She sucked in a deep breath when she heard the door open in the other room and the froze when she heard a cold voice say, "Here kitty, kitty." There was a pause before Severus Snape said, "Hermione, you can't hide forever."

* * *

Draco was walking through a store when he felt something begin to warm within his pocket. He froze, realizing that it was the galleon and instantly was again in the room he had left Hermione. The room looked completely normal, except for one thing: Hermione wasn't there. His eyes strayed to the bathroom door and he saw that it was partially open. He hurried to it, his hand pushing the door but it stopped, hitting something that was blocking its way. He peered in and saw that it was Hermione's legs. He pushed the door harder and nearly fell into the bathroom. His heart stopped when he saw the blood on the sink, and the bloody dagger lying on the floor beside Hermione. Her green sweater was dark and saturated with blood near her chest. 

Swearing, Draco dropped to his knees reaching for Hermione's limp body. Her face was ashen and her eyes closed, but her fist was curled tightly. He didn't waste time looking, because he already knew that it was the galleon tucked safely inside. His heart racing, and tears welling in his eyes, Draco held Hermione to his chest, lifting her up. He half carried, half dragged her to the bed, laying her gently down. Her head rolled to the side. Draco was shaking, looking at his hands. They were slick with blood. He ran one of them through his hair, leaving a red streak in the blonde, and then knelt on the bed beside Hermione, touching her face, leaving red smears.

"Hermione, come on, Hermione, you can't die." He said. His hands touched her throat, feeling for a pulse and there was one, but it was very faint. He swore again, crawling away from her and sitting on the edge of the bed. His elbows were on the tops of his thighs and his face was in his hands. He was having trouble controlling his breathing, as it was coming in erratic shallow breaths. A soft moan came from Hermione and he spun to face her. Her eyes were open slightly and she was staring at him. She licked her lips and winced.

"Your wand." She said, her voice hoarse and drenched with pain. Draco couldn't believe how stupid he had been. Of course, he could use his wand to heal her. The only problem was that he wasn't a trained Healer and he only knew basic healing spells, this would require much better training than that. He stood, wand in his hand, a dumbfounded and frightened look on his face.

"I can't heal you." He said, his voice shaking. Hermione shook her head, reaching one hand out weakly.

"Your wand." She said again. Draco frowned at her, not understanding what she meant. "I can." She said, wincing again. She looked as though she didn't have the strength to stay alive any longer, but Draco pressed the wand into her hand. It fell onto the bed beside her heavily and she did not move it again.

"Hermione…" Draco said, kneeling over her. Her eyes had closed again, and Draco touched her cheek with his fingers. "Hermione, you can't die…what can I do to help you?" He murmured. Her eyes opened into slits and she stared up at him.

"Hold it…" she began but stopped, coughing and Draco saw that there was blood on the corner of her mouth. She took a deep breath and winced. "The wand, hold it in my hand for me." She said. Draco nodded, grasping her hand tightly, holding the wand in place. He lifted her arm, positioning the wand so it pointed at her chest. Her eyes closed again, but her mouth moved silently for five minutes until she closed her eyes completely and her hand seemed to go limp in his.

"No." Draco cried, dropping her hand and placing his palms on either side of her face. Immediately her eyes opened and he cried out again. "Did it work?" He asked. Hermione took another deep breath and bit her lip.

"I think so." She said, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He released her face and sat away from her. It was then that he realized he had been crying, nearly sobbing. Hermione shifted her weight, lifting herself on one arm. "I need a Healer." She said, and Draco nodded. He turned to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I am never leaving you alone again." He said seriously. Hermione tried to smile at him, but the pain was too terrible so instead she let herself fall back onto the bed. Draco stared at his hands. They were shaking still. He tried to wipe the blood off on his pants, but it seemed that he couldn't get it all. Tears still fell onto his cheeks and his body was beginning to shake with how hard he was crying. He didn't notice that Hermione had risen once more until one of her arms circled around him, her hand resting on his stomach. Her weight pressed against his back and she rubbed it soothingly, placing her head on the back of his shoulder. He could hear her labored breathing from the pain. "I'm so sorry I left you." Draco whispered and he felt Hermione shake her head against him.

"Don't be, let's just get me to Harry and a Healer, ok?" She said, and Draco nodded, still blinded by his tears.


	20. Venom

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer: **No. 

**Author's Note:** In response to _Cibbler_… The reason I'm having such a difficult time trying to figure out a way a romance would ensue between Draco and Hermione is because of Ron's death. I'm writing this story as the ideas come to me, so I didn't really foresee this happening when I wanted to write a Draco/Hermione story. I'm not sure how it's going to work, to be honest…or even I can find a fairly realistic way to throw romance into this. Perhaps it'll pan out better as I keep writing and will work out.

* * *

Chapter Twenty  
_Venom_

Severus Snape fell to his knees gasping for breath, his hands lifted to his chest, pressing against it. His face was twisted in a grimace of pain. Groaning, he stumbled to his feet, looking around him at the bedchamber he had been occupying for the past day or so. Almost staggering, he made his way to the bed and fell onto it, his breath still coming in shallowly. The moment the blade had pierced Hermione Granger's skin the searing pain had erupted in Severus' own chest in nearly the same place the blade had sunk into her. His hand had released instantly and the room had blurred around him until he found himself once more in the dreary confines of this bedchamber.

"Is she dead?" The cold, sleek voice of Lord Voldemort seemed to slither from the darkness. Severus' back became rigid and he turned to face Voldemort. The man was cloaked in shadow, but Severus could see him nonetheless. His eyes seemed to glow incandescently, like a wild animal prowling in the night for prey. Drawing in a shaky breath Severus tried to calm the fast beating of his heart.

"Something happened…" He began, but paused, trying to find the right words. "I don't know." He said finally, refusing to look at Voldemort's face.

"It is of no consequence." Voldemort hissed. "If she does not die from the wound, the poison coursing through her veins shall kill her in the end. I must commend you on your excellent work in acquiring another vessel, Severus. It was kind of you to reunite me with Ginny Weasley. I grew rather fond of her during our first encounter."

"Yes, my Lord." Severus said, his head still bowed. There was a soft rustle of movement in which Severus knew Voldemort had apparated away, and with a sigh, Severus looked up to see that he was correct. Rising to his feet, Severus made his way to the window. Looking out, he felt the searing pain flare up suddenly and he cried out, grabbing the windowsill with one hand. Tears sprang to his eyes, which seemed to anger him. He wiped them away savagely trying to ignore the burning in his chest, but it refused to lessen.

* * *

Harry sat at the kitchen table of the Burrow, an empty cup on its side in front of him, rolling back and forth between his hands. His eyes were trained on it, though they were slightly out of focus. His thoughts were with Ginny at the moment, reliving every precious moment they had shared together. Jumping, Harry heard a repeated bang come from the front door and muffled shouting. He was on his feet instantly, wand drawn. Molly Weasley descended the steps, her face tight and frightened, her own wand in her hand.. Harry motioned for her to stay back and continued forward. When he neared the door, he frowned. He recognized the voice, but couldn't place it, and only when he was directly in front of the door did he realize that it was Draco Malfoy's voice insulting him and demanding that the door be opened at once. 

Harry flung the door open, wand pointed directly at Draco's face the instant it swung open to reveal him. Draco stopped in the middle of his sentence. Harry's eyes were trained on Draco's face, taking in the smears and spots of blood that were on it, as well as in his hair. It took him several moments to realize that Draco was supporting the weight of a woman that leaned against him, but when his eyes fell on the woman they widened. Hermione Granger clung to Draco, her face pale and drawn in pain. Her eyes were glazed slightly and she was mumbling incoherently. Harry rushed forward, grasping her gently in his arms. He picked her up, placing one arm near her head, and the other beneath her knees and carried her, as though she were a child, into the house. Draco trailed them silently.

Molly gave a cry when she saw Hermione, and shot Draco a murderous glare, but said nothing. Her hands were touching Hermione's face, feeling her throat for a pulse and then she was gone in an instant, no doubt to notify a Healer of Hermione's present and wounded state. Harry was fussing over Hermione, pushing her hair out of her face, tears in his eyes. He was talking to her softly, trying to get her to respond, but she stared despondently away from him, her head dropped slightly to the side. Harry turned to Draco pleadingly.

"What happened to her?" Harry asked, his voice deathly quiet and trembling.

"I don't know. I left for only a few minutes and when I returned she was bleeding. She'd been stabbed…she healed herself, but…" Draco trailed off, looking down at Hermione. Pain shone in his eyes for only an instant before he looked at Harry again. "I had a damned time getting her here. I didn't know where to find you, and seeing as how I'm not a member of the Order I wouldn't have any idea in any case and she stopped responding to me before I could, but then she did…" Draco trailed off again, realizing that he was beginning to not make sense.

"But she's here and that's all that matters." Harry said. He turned from Draco then, kneeling beside Hermione trying to coerce her into speaking again. But she still did not respond.

"I think she's been poisoned by Snape." Draco said suddenly and Harry turned to him, his eyes flashing.

"Snape?" He repeated and Draco nodded slowly.

"He has Ginny Weasley. Hermione was determined to rescue her. I can only imagine that Snape is the one who tracked us, the only one capable besides the Dark Lord himself." Draco explained, and Harry's hands clenched into fists. "I have to warn you, though, they were going to use Hermione as a means of killing massive populations of Muggles and Muggle-borns, not to mentioned Halfbloods."

"What do you mean?" Harry demanded, glancing down at Hermione.

"A disease. They were going to infect her with a disease and wait until she was healthy enough to be released. There would have been no outward signs. I've already been inoculated against it. That's the plan. They will only inoculate Purebloods or those Halfbloods that show severe loyalty to the Dark Lord's cause." Draco paused, averting his eyes from Harry's gaze. "If they've attempted to kill Hermione, it means that they're going to use Ginny instead."

"No!" Harry yelled, turning away from Draco. He left the room quickly, swearing as he went, leaving Draco staring after him. Molly Weasley reentered then, her eyes showing her mistrust of Draco.

"I heard what you said about my daughter." She said somewhat coldly. "It is true?" She asked. Draco frowned at her, feeling slightly irritated.

"Why would I lie to you about that? Why would I lie about any of this?" He demanded, his voice rising. Molly gave him a cold look before turning her attention to Hermione again. A damp cloth was being pressed against Hermione's forehead, and Molly looked back at Draco.

"It was your tip that got my son killed." Molly said and Draco clenched his jaw.

"I had nothing to do with that! I didn't want anyone to die. That's why I came to the Order in the first place. I thought I took every precaution needed to ensure that no one was hurt!" Draco exclaimed, his voice pained but Molly pursed her lips at him.

"Yet my son died." She said. Draco let out a frustrated cry, throwing his hands in the air.

"Fine. I helped murder your son, is that what you wanted to hear?" He spat at her, his eyes shooting daggers with his glare. Molly narrowed her eyes at him, rising to her full height and pointing a finger at his chest. Her eyes blazed, but Harry stepped into the room, moving forward quickly, coming between them. He turned his back on Draco and grasped Molly's shoulder's gently.

"No, this won't help Hermione and it won't help us find Ginny." Harry said softly. He pulled away from Molly and shot Draco a glare. "Don't think that we'll trust you. You're still a snake." He said darkly. Draco conceded with a slight nod and stepped away.

"I'll leave her with you then, and I'll be on my way." Draco said, turning to go, but Molly's voice stopped him.

"You may stay." She said, though her voice was rigid and hard. "You may be the only chance we have at rescuing my daughter, whether I like it or not." They fell into silence, Draco and Molly staring at each other warily.

"There's a cat outside that belongs to her. It's been refusing to leave the bag of her clothes since she fell ill." Draco said, his voice soft as if he didn't want to offend. Molly blinked in surprise.

"A cat?" She asked, and Draco nodded. "Well, then I'd better make sure it's fed. Besides, Hermione will want it near when she wakes." Molly said, turning to leave the room. Draco heard her muttering under her breath about Hermione's love for cats. Draco watched her, and then looked to find Harry staring at him intently.

"You said that Hermione wanted to rescue Ginny." He said flatly. Draco nodded. "How did she plan to do this?" He asked. Draco began to explain, and gradually they were sitting close to Hermione speaking softly. Every few minutes Harry would check on Hermione, to make sure she was breathing steadily and that her heart was beating, even as faintly as it was. It took ten minutes for a Healer to arrive, and when she did, she took one look at Hermione and her entire demeanor changed from friendly to frantic. She hurried to Hermione's side and knelt, feeling her forehead. She turned worried eyes on Draco and Harry.

"How long ago did she show signs of being poisoned?" The Healer asked.

"Maybe four or five hours…she was stabbed, didn't Mrs. Weasley tell you that?" Draco asked. The Healer's eyes widened and she looked down at Hermione with a soft sound. There was little indication of the stabbing on Hermione's clothes, as Draco had removed the green sweater and replaced it with a different, cleaner one.

"No, that must have been left out by accident by the man who informed me of the situation." The Healer said disappointedly. "She was stabbed? Do you have the blade?" She asked, splitting her attention between Harry and Draco. Draco nodded, leaving the room quickly. He reappeared holding the dagger in his hand tentatively. He extended it to the Healer, who took it and held it away from her as though she were afraid the poison would infect her as well.

"Can you heal her?" Harry asked, his voice trembling. The Healer paused before answering.

"I don't know until I have analyzed the poison. Do you know anything about who did this? If they are known for this, or if they have any inclination to certain forms of punishment. With the war we tend to see very distinct methods of killing that are particular to certain groups or even to single individuals." The Healer said, placing the dagger on a small table nearby and drawing her wand. She placed it above it, parallel and horizontal. She released the wand and it remained suspended in the air.

"Potions..." Draco said uncertainly and the Healer's eyes snapped to him.

"Potions? He specializes in potions?" She demanded and both Draco and Harry nodded.

"This is far worse than I thought. If he used a potion of his own design containing a poison it will be much harder to treat than a simple poisoned blade." The Healer explained. She turned her attention to the wand fully now, completely ignoring Draco and Harry. They watched, sitting side by side on the couch as the Healer moved to Hermione's side, placing the wand above her chest. The wand hovered when the Healer released it, her fingers pressing along Hermione's body feeling for any other injuries as the wand performed whatever magic it needed to. The room remained silent, except for the soft mutterings of the Healer, even when Molly rejoined them, the cat following her. Molly sat in a chair, her eyes fixed on Hermione, tense, worried and silent. Everyone waited with heavy hearts to know if Hermione would recover.


	21. Exposed

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own. 

**Author's Note: **Who shows up at someone's house unannounced at 2:30 in the morning? Oh that's right. My stalker! That was pretty swell. But anyway, I would have gotten this written and out last night, but as I mentioned I had a random visitor show up at my house looking for me right when I was about to write some more, because I couldn't sleep, and it freaked me out a little and I completely lost all my creative inspiration. And I apologize if the chapter is terrible?

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One  
_Exposed_

The Healer turned to Molly, and her expression was not encouraging nor comforting. Molly's hands tightened in her lap, her bottom lip quivering slightly, and her eyes fell to the floor as they filled with tears. Harry rose to his feet, coming to Molly's side immediately, placing a hand on her shoulder. One of Molly's hands lifted to rest on top of Harry's. Draco watched this with guarded eyes. He felt as if he were intruding on a private moment, and rose to his feet also, turning to the door. Once again, Molly's voice stopped him. "You needn't leave." She said softly, and Draco turned to find her watching him with only sadness in her eyes.

"I don't know what kind of poison this is." The Healer said, bringing everyone's attention back to her. "The best I can do for now is try to stabilize her with several spells that will slow the spread of the poison by slowing her heart rate causing less blood to be pumped." She said, glancing alternately between Draco, Harry and Molly.

"Is it safe?" Harry asked, and the Healer hesitated slightly before answering.

"The spells will also slow her breathing, so much that it is possible that she will stop breathing altogether. The severe slowness of her heart rate could also drop until it reaches the same point. As of now, I can think of no other way to help her. This is not a common poison, and I do believe that there is a potion at work with it. Poison is very difficult to treat if its chemical properties are laced with a potion designed to enhance its potency. In some cases the potion acts as a binding solution. It's very hard to retract the poison from the bloodstream and often it is fatal." The Healer explained.

"You don't know the chances of her recovering?" Molly asked, her voice soft and heartbroken. The Healer looked at her sadly, shaking her head.

"I can't determine that until I discover the poison that's been injected into her bloodstream with the blade." The Healer said, her eyes flitting to the blade. "If it's fine with you, I'd like to take it with me to St. Mungo's and have a specialist analyze it. I won't be gone long and I'll be returning with more Healers. She is no condition to be moved like this, especially because we don't know what the poison is designed to do to her." Molly nodded vigorously.

"Yes, please." Molly murmured, grasping Harry's hand tightly.

"May I borrow one of your wands? I'll need mine when I leave, but I can't leave her without a wand constantly performing the spells to alert us if she begins fading." The Healer said and before Harry or Molly could, Draco thrust his wand towards the Healer. She gave him a gracious smile as she took it from him and replaced his wand with her own. Then, without another word, she had left the room. Harry looked at Draco, who had resumed his seat on the couch and was staring at the floor.

"Thank you." He said, and Draco looked up in surprise. He frowned at Harry, not saying anything, for he was unsure of what to say. Once more the room lapsed into silence, where every set of eyes remained intently focused on Hermione, searching for any sign of renewed health or life. The monotony was broken when Minerva McGonagall entered the room, frazzled looking. She immediately was at Hermione's side, asking the others to explain fully what had happened. She listened silently as Draco explained and when he had finished, her eyes were wide and shocked.

"Dumbledore always told me to have faith in you, but I never listened to a word he said." McGonagall said softly, the sudden shame she was feeling showing on her face. Draco shrugged slightly. The four of them fell into hushed conversation until McGonagall excused herself, explaining that she was needed elsewhere but would return as quickly as she could. When she left the room once again lapsed into silence.

The Healer returned perhaps twenty minutes later accompanied by two aging women dressed in the signature lime green robes of St. Mungo's Healers. The women said nothing to the three seated persons and were busy running their wands over Hermione's inert body, speaking occasionally in soft voices to one another. The original Healer paused, her wand directly over Hermione's left knee and locked eyes with Molly.

"What is her name? I can't believe I forgot to ask earlier." The question was greeted by silence and Molly exchanged a worried glance with Harry. To announce that this was Hermione Granger could mean death to the girl if news was leaked and spread to any Healers associated with Voldemort's cause. During times of warfare one could never be too sure of who the enemy truly was. Draco was living proof of that.

"Annie. Annabelle Lansing." Draco's voice supplied smoothly, but the look had not gone unnoticed by the original Healer and she frowned in their direction, her lips slightly pursed. "May I inquire as to the names of you three, as well?" He asked politely. The original Healer released her wand, letting it hover unguarded above Hermione's leg. The other Healer's glanced behind them for only a moment before continuing their work.

"Jessica Meier." The Healer said, extending a hand to Draco. He grasped it briefly before letting it go. "I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. My associates are Gwen Bates," She said motioning to the darker haired of the two other women, "and Helena Greengrass." She continued with a nod at the other. Draco's eyes flashed with panic for a moment when he heard the final woman's name, but covered it quickly. Helena's attention was solely on Hermione and had not noticed him. Jessica noted that look of panic before it fled Draco's eyes with curiosity. "And your name? I know Molly Weasley already, and Harry Potter of course, but I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting." She said.

"Paul Lansing." Draco said. The Healer shot him a suspicious look, her eyebrow rising.

"Lansing? Are you related?" She asked, dubiously, and it was Harry's voice that broke in.

"Recently married actually." He said, which earned him a slightly disgusted look from Draco, which thankfully was not noticed by Jessica, though she did give them curious stares. Harry returned the look almost angrily as if daring Draco to betray Hermione's true identity somehow.

"And, the stabbing? How did this occur?" Jessica asked her voice clearly stating the doubt she felt for the explanation so far.

"Jealous lover." Draco said with a sigh. "She's not very faithful, I'm afraid." He shook his head at this giving Hermione's unconscious form a rather disappointed look.

"Really? I was under the impression that Miss Lansing," Jessica emphasized the name, "was involved in the war and was wounded during an altercation." She said. Draco blinked at this but shrugged.

"No, I'm afraid not. What gave you the idea?" He asked and Jessica frowned at him.

"Well, the man only mentioned the possible poisoning of a female about twenty years of age, but then you explained about the stabbing…and Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Potter are both actively involved in the war, I only assumed…" Jessica said, clearly confused. She shook her head. "I suppose I should have clarified sooner, though I'm not really surprised. You wouldn't believe how many cases we get involving jealous lovers and jinxes gone awry." She said, seeming to forget her previous doubt. There was a noise behind them from one of the other Healers and Helena turned toward them. The same instant that she turned, Draco rose to his feet, muttering about being thirsty and left the room. Helena's eyes landed on his face and watched him silently before she spoke.

"I think we'll be able to cure her soon. It appears that though the poison is rare and a potion was used it's not affecting any core organs or systems within the body. It seems that the poison is designed to induce a rather painful, delirious death spent mainly in a comatose dream-like state. We won't know for certain until the analyzing of the blade is completed fully, but I believe we can create a potion to counter the original, as well as create an anti-venom that should remove all toxins from her blood." Helena explained, her eyes straying to the doorway Draco had exited from.

"How do you know this?" Molly asked, her voice still hushed. Helena smiled at Molly kindly.

"We are all given specific parchments that are charmed to relay information to and fro from a persons mind. It's very convenient when we receive patients such as, Miss Lansing, was it?" Helena asked, glancing between Harry and Molly. They both shook their heads simultaneously. "It's very efficient and can only be read by two separate individuals that the parchments are charmed for. They all come in sets of two, but that's a bit off topic, I'm sorry. The man who is analyzing the blade relayed the information to me, and that paired with what we've been able to discover so far has led us to believe that she will be able to recover fully in time." Helena said.

"Will you be taking her to St. Mungo's?" Harry asked and Helena nodded, taking over Jessica's position as the leading Healer.

"Yes, we will be taking her with us shortly and she will stay there until the poison is removed fully from her body. I would like to speak with her husband, if that is possible?" Helena smiled again at Molly. Molly nodded, her eyebrows furrowed as she look at Hermione. She did not want to release Hermione into the Healers' care, only because she unsure if they could be trusted. "Then I'll go speak with him now. Please, excuse me." Helena said politely, following the same path that Draco had.

Draco was standing in the kitchen, his heart racing, fear pounding through his veins. Greengrass was a Pureblood family name, and though he did not know Helena personally, her name had been mentioned at Malfoy Manor many times by his father and mother. Draco could not remember any specific information about the woman, only that she was related closely to several very influential Death Eaters. His fear mainly rose from the fact that he resembled his father greatly and anyone who had known Lucius Malfoy while he was alive would never mistake Draco for being the son of anyone else but he and Narcissa.

"Though your story may be enough to fool the likes of Jessica Meier and Gwen Bates, I'm not so blind to the tales of liars, Draco Malfoy" A cool voice interrupted Draco's thoughts. He turned quickly to find Helena Greengrass watching him with calculating eyes. Draco was stunned and did not know what to say. Helena moved toward him, and he stayed where he was refusing to show even the slightest bit of outward fear of her. Her wand was held in her hand, loosely hanging at her side. She was watching him closely, and Draco could almost see the turning of the wheels that spun her thoughts. Stepping even closer, Helena's mouth twisted into a smile. "What would your father say?" She asked.


	22. Comrade

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Funny story. I don't own anything you recognize as JK Rowling's. Ok, maybe not so funny. 

**Author's Note:** I've been thinking of not having any major Draco/Hermione romance until a sequel. BUT, I still am not sure how this pans out. So if it does turn out that there will be a sequel, I hope you all won't be incredibly disappointed and hate me and/or my story.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-two  
_Comrade_

Hermione could feel the ground beneath her as she lay on her back. Her face was turned up toward the sky, but her eyes were closed. There were no warming rays to fall on her skin and bring a smile to her lips. An icy bite from the wind hit her instead, and soon small pinpricks of freezing water hit her as it began to rain. She shivered, turning her head to the side and opening her eyes. In the distance stood the forest. A cold feeling of dread began to creep into her, starting at her mind and sinking lower until it had permeated her skin, blood and the very marrow in her bones. Glancing down Hermione saw that she was clothed in a white dress, and that her chest was stained a brilliant crimson red. Her fingertips came away bloody when she touched it.

Strangely she felt no pain, only that foreboding sense of doom. Rising to her knees, Hermione turned her head the other way, her eyes seeking out the village through the now pouring rain. Shivering and clinging to herself to preserve heat she stumbled to her feet. Her shoes were gone and as she walked through the wet grass and mud they screamed in protest. Eventually they became numb, and it was hard for her to walk on them, because though they were so cold that she could hardly feel anything but an ache, she felt as though they were no longer a part of her. Teeth chattering, she staggered into the village, her eyes wildly searching for any form of life around her.

To her left, in the window of a dilapidated house, there was a faint light shining from inside. Sucking in a deep breath and wincing at the cold that pierced her lungs, Hermione scrambled up the steps that led to a porch surrounding the house. The stone made her gasp in pain as they struck her feet, for the icy contact negated the numbness, shooting her into agony that somehow at the same time seemed to trigger the pain in her chest to appear. Her hands clutched at her chest in hopes of alleviating the misery, but it did nothing. Crying, Hermione lifted a fist to hit the door, but with an audible click it opened a half an inch. Staring dumbly at the door's handle she did not move.

The door swung open then, revealing a tall man dressed in warm clothes. Hermione peered at his face but it was blurred and she could not even tell the color of his hair. Blaming this on her tears and the rain, Hermione stumbled inside. The man stepped aside, closing the door softly behind them. Her eyes still hazy, Hermione watched as the man poured tea into two cups on a table, and then sat down, motioning for her to take a seat as well. He said nothing, but neither did Hermione. Wiping her eyes she sat, blinking and when she looked at the man's face she began to cry again.

Ron Weasley was watching her with sad eyes, the teacup held in one hand. He slowly lifted it to his mouth, letting the rim of the cup touch his lips gently as he drank the steaming liquid. His eyes never left Hermione's face. He set the cup down, near the edge of the table, and with a clumsy movement of his hand it was upset and fell onto his lap. Hermione waited for the sudden yelp of shock and surprise as the pain from the burning tea hit Ron, but he made no sound or movement. Hermione frowned, leaning forward, reaching a hand out to him, but Ron turned his face and body away.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence. Ron glanced at her before he stood, but still said nothing. He walked from the room and Hermione followed him instantly. They made their way through a dimly lit hall and into a small room that lacked furniture. A fireplace stood to one side, but it was empty of flames. On top of the mantle was the familiar picture of Ron and Hermione. There were two separate photographs, but they held the same image, only in one the two figures were moving while the other they remained static. Hermione moved towards them, frowning still, her hands touching them.

"Don't." Ron whispered from behind her, just as her fingertips touched the metal frames. They burned her skin and she cried out, moving away quickly. "Why did you kill me?" Ron asked with a sigh. Hermione turned to him, tears in her eyes.

"I didn't." She cried, shaking her head. Ron looked away, turning his back on her once more.

"Don't follow. They're coming." Ron said and then he was gone. Hermione stared into the spot that he had just occupied lifting a hand to her forehead and pushed her hair back from her face. Her cries rose in volume even though she tried to quell them.

"I'm dead. I have to be. I'm dead." She said over and over, sinking to the floor as she sobbed. A gentle whisper seemed to touch her eyes and Hermione straightened, her back going rigid. With frightened eyes she looked around the room but found nothing to account for the noise. Pain seemed to erupt inside her then, causing her to call out, doubling over in pain. Cringing, Hermione thought she felt the cold touch of hands on her face, though no one was in the room with her. She cried, scrambling away from the center of the room until her back hit the wall. She breathed shallowly, both in fear and pain, and shoved her hands over her ears to block out the incessant whispering that now seemed to fall around her.

* * *

"If Lucius wasn't already dead this might have caused heart failure in the poor man and finished the bastard off." Helena chuckled, leaning casually against the counter. Draco watched her warily. "Tell me, Draco, did you betray the Dark Lord because you knew he would lose this war or because you realized you were fighting for the wrong side?" Helena asked, her smile dropping from her face. 

"What?" Draco asked, trying to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. Helena's eyes flashed darkly.

"Don't do that. I have two daughters and three sons and let me tell you, Daphne is an excellent little liar but I always know." Helena snapped. "What do you know about me?" She asked, her voice suddenly going softer. Draco frowned at her.

"You're a Greengrass. You're Pureblood. You knew my family." He said, a slight edge to his words. Helena smiled at him again, nodding her head twice.

"Yes, true, but what do you know about _me_." She asked softly. Draco did not answer and Helena's smile widened. "Your father despised me. It was rather unfortunate that he was such a good friend with my brother as a child. Do you know that your wretched father got poor Francis killed?" Helena asked with a discontented sigh. Draco remained silent.

"Of course you didn't. I would imagine that my name would have been mentioned quite often. I was loudly outspoken against your father and his work for the Dark Lord." Helena continued. She fixed Draco with a piercing look and asked, "Do you know my daughters? They both attended Hogwarts during the same time as you. My sons were already graduated or not old enough to attend while you were enrolled. I believe you were in the same year as Daphne."

"Yes, I knew of them, though we did not talk often." Draco said, surprised by Helena's tangent. Helena bore a contented smile on her face; it was almost smug.

"And why is that?" She asked. Draco paused to think, and blinked, a small laugh escaping him.

"Because your daughter was an absolute horror." He said, and Helena nodded. "And she never approved of the House Rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and she detested the hatred for Muggle-borns that most of us harbored." Draco couldn't believe he had forgotten Daphne Greengrass, the outspoken Slytherin who hated the fact that she was even in Slytherin. Daphne had always disliked Draco because of his manners and actions towards the Muggle-born students at Hogwarts. After their first and second year, Draco had simply ignored her for the most part and Daphne had been content to befriend the other students from other House's, especially Ravenclaw where her younger sister had been placed during their third year and where Daphne herself most longed to be.

"Yes, that girl can be an absolute horror, as you say." Helena mused. Draco began to feel more at ease, knowing that this woman was sympathetic to the Order's side, though he was still wary. "But she's a damn good ally to have in this war. She fights like a lion and her sister is just as valiant, the Order is lucky to have them, though the majority of their brothers have been swayed by the Dark Lord's temptations."

"So, she's safe in your care then?" Draco asked a bit uncertainly, turning the topic back to Hermione, his mistrust of Helena showing itself again.

"Who is she really?" The woman asked as her eyes locked with Draco's. "I doubt that you are married, Draco."

"Hermione Granger." Draco whispered and the woman gasped.

"Daphne has told me that they've been searching for her for more than a month. Astoria thought she was dead, to be honest with you." Helena said her eyes wide. Draco sighed, lowering his gaze.

"She would have been if it weren't me." He said and Helena's mouth twitched into a smile.

"All the things I heard of you from my daughters, from everyone…all of them were wrong." Helena said, touching Draco's arm softly. "They said you were just as rotten as Lucius himself, but no one so touched by evil and eaten by hatred could have saved her." Draco looked at her with tears in his eyes and he felt embarrassed at this show of emotion coming from him, but he couldn't stop it as the tears fell onto his cheeks. "She is safe with me, and she will recover, but just so that you feel more comfortable, we will allow for all of you to accompany her if you so desire. I know Molly will rest easier if she is with the girl, during times such as these, it easy to mistake friend for enemy and to be fooled when matters of the heart are involved." They exchanged a look that was reassuring from Helena's end and grateful on Draco's. Together they left the kitchen to rejoin the ailing Hermione, the Healers and the members of the Order.


	23. Acceptance

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer:** Belongs to some woman named Rowling?

**Author's Note:** Thank you to my diligent reviewers. 

I am moving tomorrow, so hopefully I'll get Internet up and running at my new house soon, if not, I apologize for the delay in updating.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-three  
_Acceptance_

Hermione sat beneath a tree, her back flush with the solid trunk, her feet firmly planted in the grass and her knees tucked up near her chest. Leaves fell down on her periodically in a brilliant display of color. One of her hands shot out quickly, catching a spiraling leaf that blossomed golden in the center only to bloom in thick patches of a dazzling red that met the outermost edge of the leaf. She studied it carefully as if she could divine some great wisdom from the pattern of the crossing veins on the fallen foliage.

"It means terrible suffering lies ahead for you." The cool, misty voice of Sybill Trelawney whispered close to Hermione's ear. With a start, Hermione dropped the leaf, turning to face the woman who was kneeling beside her, eyes trailing the leaf on its descent to the grass.

"You are a fraud and a liar." Hermione all but snarled. Sybill's face took on an affronted appearance and her mouth opened as if she were to speak, but Hermione continued, a bit more softly, "I can't suffer any more than I already have." Her eyes were wet with tears, but she took a deep breath and lifted her chin.

Sybill leaned closer to Hermione and whispered ominously, "Oh, but you can, and you will." Her eyes bored into Hermione's glinting with a deep knowledge that shook Hermione to the core. Shuddering and squeezing her eyes closed, Hermione turned her face away from her former professor, breathing deeply. When she reopened them, Sybill Trelawney was nowhere to be found in sight.

"Crazy old bat." Hermione muttered, turning her face towards the sky. A startled shriek escaped her. Perched precariously on a branch, high above her head, sat a vicious looking creature. All in all, it looked remotely harmless, but for its eyes which gleamed maliciously down at Hermione. It's thin body, much like that belonging to a small monkey, was upright with one tiny fist curled around a thin branch above it. Its toes were locked tightly on the branch beneath them, one tail curving around it as a stabilizer. Its dusty black fur moved ever so slightly with a light breeze as it tilted its head further down to peer at Hermione. She was struck by how much the eyes altered the appearance of the creature. If it weren't for those deep, golden eyes that seemed to glow with a violent fire the creature would not have been frightening at all.

A soft noise brought Hermione's attention away from the creature and she looked to her left. The area was void of all other forms of life, save for her and the creature in the tree. Her eyes and face once more tilted upwards, but Hermione found the boughs of the tree empty now, as well. A chilling wind blew in, lifting several of the leaves around her into the air. Her eyes locked on them, remembering the Divination professor's words. She felt herself tremble and then shook her head adamantly. "That old hag doesn't know what she's talking about." She murmured to herself, staring once more above her, her face troubled and undoubtedly afraid.

* * *

"Ah, Professor McGonagall, it is lovely to see you." Helena Greengrass announced as she and Draco re-entered the room. Minerva McGonagall was standing near Hermione, speaking softly with Gwen and Jessica, and looked up upon hearing her name. Helena gave Minerva a warm smile. "I trust Evander is following the rules as usual?" She inquired. Minerva returned her smile with one that was only slightly less warm than Helena's. 

"Yes, Evander is quite possibly the only Greengrass I have ever taught that abides the rules so well." Minerva politely responded.

"Daphne always teased him for being such a good boy when he was younger." Helena said, but then turned to Molly and Harry, changing the subject rapidly. "I informed Mr. Lansing on his wife's condition and we decided that the best course of action would be for Annabelle to be accompanied at all times by one of you. Often times victims such as she can become distressed quite easily and merely a sound and touch from someone they trust will calm them considerably." She disclosed softly, looking at Hermione for a moment.

"Harry, you should go with her." Molly said, turning to him and grasping his hands. "Arthur isn't due to come home from work for another several hours and I'd hate to leave without telling him, or interrupt him. If she's going to recover fully, there's no need to worry him now." She explained.

"Of course, I wouldn't let her leave without going with her." Harry adamantly replied. Draco watched them silently, his eyes moving from Harry, to Molly, to Hermione and then back as if calculating his actions concerning the three. Helena was speaking again, but softly, and to Molly only. Minerva was once again immersed in conversation with Gwen and Jessica, and Harry had wandered to Hermione's side. Draco watched as Harry knelt, grabbing Hermione's hand gently with one of his own while the other snaked up to brush the hair away from her face. Draco made his decision then and made his way to Harry's side. Harry barely looked up at Draco's presence, though he visibly tensed.

"I'd like to go with you." Draco said. Harry looked at him sharply, a frown on his features.

"I would have thought that was obvious. You're supposed to be her husband." Harry murmured, careful not to raise his voice too loudly. Draco glared at him.

"What a wonderful idea, by the way." He remarked dryly. Harry returned the glare, dropping Hermione's hand and rising to his full height. "I'm going with her." Draco changed the subject rapidly, moving away from Harry to prevent any more hostility to come between them. A hand settled on his back and Draco looked over his shoulder to see Helena.

"We'll be leaving soon." She informed them, then turned her attention solely on Harry. "My daughter will meet us at St. Mungo's. I feel that, considering the circumstances of your friend's illness, you should have better protection from the Order." Her voice was soft, her eyes full of meaning and Harry understood then that she knew of Hermione's true identity. He turned accusing eyes on Draco and was greeted with a cool glare.

"You can't be trusted with a secret can you?" Harry hissed in Draco's direction, but Helena stepped between them.

"I find it very disheartening, Mr. Potter, that still I am not fully trusted. Yes, many of my family supports the Dark Lord, and for this I am considered a risky confidant, yet my only daughters are faithful supporters of your cause and have often vouched for my own loyalty." Helena was careful to keep her voice quiet, not wanting to attract the attention of Gwen or Jessica, both who had no affiliation with the Order. Harry looked at the floor guiltily.

"I think, in the end, it all comes down to their unwillingness to trust a snake fully. I think, perhaps, that Daphne is somewhat of an oddity among them." Draco snapped, his voice sounding bitter. Harry's eyes flew up to greet his but said nothing. "True, isn't it, Potter?" Draco sneered, turning on his heel and walking to the couch. He sat heavily, pointedly ignoring Harry's gaze, which had followed him.

"We'll be leaving in about five minutes." Helena whispered. Harry nodded and turned his attention back to Hermione. Her breathing was labored, and her face was pinched with pain. Looking over his shoulder, Harry glanced at Draco, but he was no longer sitting on the couch. With a heavy sigh, Harry wound his way through the others in the room intent on finding Draco and apologizing. He had no right to instantly accuse Draco of betraying Hermione's secret, and Helena Greengrass had always been supportive of the Order's work against Voldemort. His guilt was weighing heavily on him for behaving in such a prejudice manner. Draco had, after all, given them the whereabouts of Hermione's location after she was kidnapped, and had even returned her to them.

Harry found Draco standing outside on the porch. The air had a cold bite to it that caused Harry to shiver when it hit him. Draco seemed unaffected by the chill. He was staring out over the long expanse of grass toward a horizon of glittering stars. "If you don't trust me, I'll just be going and leave you to take care of her." Draco said suddenly, turning to face Harry.

"Where will you go? Voldemort will want you dead for betraying him." Harry snapped testily. Draco glared at him, crossing his arms.

"What do you care if I die? I did my part by bringing her back. I told you I'd do that, now I've told you how to get your girlfriend back, so I'll be leaving if all I'm going to receive here is mistrust and hostility." Draco shot back. Harry breathed deeply, trying to keep his anger from rising. It was a habit, really, to argue with, and hate, Draco Malfoy but it was a habit that needed to be broken.

"I'm sorry." Harry said, somewhat lamely. Draco frowned at him. "We do need your help, and none of us wants to see you die." He continued and at this Draco's frown turned into a perplexed and incredulous look.

"You expect me to believe that?" Draco asked, and when Harry nodded Draco laughed. "I'm not stupid. I know that more than half of your fellow Order members want me dead, regardless of the fact that I saved that girl's life." Draco murmured, motioning one hand toward the house where Hermione lay. They were interrupted then by the door opening, and Jessica stepping out with an apologetic look on her face for having disturbed their conversation.

"Helena will be bringing Hermione out in a moment and then we'll apparate her to St. Mungo's, of course with you for company." She explained. "I believe that Molly wanted to speak with you, Harry, so Paul could accompany her and you meet them both there?" She suggested. Harry looked slightly uneasy about this but then nodded his acquiescence. He disappeared into the house, shooting Draco one more glance that was both apologetic and what seemed to be trusting, which surprised Draco greatly.


	24. Uncertainties

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize as being from JK Rowling's mind.

**Author's Note:** My apologies for the delay in updating. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-four  
_Uncertainties_

Two days passed before Hermione Granger woke from a deep sleep induced by a poison administered into her body through the dagger Severus Snape had stabbed her with. She woke gradually, her eyelids lifting only slightly to give her a rather hazy view of the room around her. The walls were starkly white and somewhere in the corner she could see vague outlines that appeared to be people sitting in chairs. Her eyelids became far too heavy then and they closed encasing her once more in darkness. From this darkness came a dull ache in her head that caused her to groan. She heard the scrape of chairs against the floor and feet coming towards her hurriedly. Cold hands touched her face and arms, and worried voices spoke over top of one another.

Moving her head to the side, Hermione tried once more to open her eyes and found that she was staring at the waist of someone dressed in Muggle jeans and a black shirt. Another groan escaped her lips and she pulled her head back so her face was pointed at the ceiling. Her eyes threatened to close again, but she willed them to stay open and blinked repeatedly until her vision became clearer. The first thing she saw was the terribly worried face of Harry Potter staring down at her with tears in his eyes. A hand was attached firmly to hers and she assumed that it was his. "Oh Hermione." Harry struggled to say, though it came out as a quite incoherent mumble. Tears choked his words thickly and he released her hand and lifted his to wipe at the tears falling from his eyes with both hands.

Hermione blinked wearily, her eyes moving away from Harry's face. A Healer stood to his left, her wand out and pointing at Hermione, but it was the person behind the Healer that drew Hermione's attention the most. Draco Malfoy had remained seated in a chair but his eyes were fixed on her, his face wearing the most pained and nervous expression she had ever seen on him before. It took her several minutes of merely staring at him with a slight frown for Hermione to realize why he was even there at all. Then her memories of her capture, Ron's death, her rescue and Ginny's capture hit her suddenly with a force that made her gasp. Tears welled in her eyes and her breathing quickened. The Healer frowned, hurrying closer to her side, grasping her wrist and feeling for a pulse.

"What's happening to her?" Harry whispered, stepping back. Hermione's eyes closed tightly and her chest began to constrict making it difficult for her to breathe. The Healer was murmuring softly to her, but Hermione couldn't understand what she was saying. Warm tears fell onto Hermione's cheeks and she struggled to sit up, but found that she was too weak. Her eyes flew open and she stared at the ceiling as she began to cry loudly. Her hands crossed over her stomach in a feeble attempt to hug herself, her fingers clasping her hips securely. Then she went strangely quiet and stared at the ceiling, her hands going limp and a slight glaze over her eyes. "What's happening to her?" Harry demanded, his voice rising with urgency.

"She's in shock." Draco said suddenly, rising to his feet. The Healer glanced at him and nodded her agreement touching Hermione's face and trying to bring the girl's attention to her.

"It's common of victims involved in very emotional attacks to suffer shock at least once." The Healer said softly, snapping her fingers in front of Hermione's face. Hermione's eyes looked at the Healer blankly, her breathing becoming shallower with each intake of air. "Annabelle, listen to me sweetheart. Listen to my voice. I want you to take a deep breath for me." The Healer said soothingly but Hermione's eyes rolled away from her and her head fell to the side. The Healer made a soft noise and then pointed her wand at Hermione's throat. Instantly Hermione's breathing calmed and her eyes closed.

"What did you do?" Harry asked frantically. The Healer turned to Harry as she tucked her wand into the pocket of her robe.

"I've merely sedated her. She'll wake in a few hours. Hopefully her reaction won't be the same." The Healer said calmly with a glance behind her at Draco. "Have you dealt with many suffering from shock?" She asked curiously. Draco looked at his feet for a moment before looking her in the eyes and nodding yes.

"Unfortunately." His voice was low and there was a certain hint of shame in his tone and eyes. Harry's eyes found his and Draco looked away, color rising faintly on his cheeks.

"Then, I'll assume you'll be able to handle your wife if it happens and a healer isn't present?" The Healer inquired and Draco nodded solemnly.

"I know the spells." He affirmed. The Healer smiled at him in an encouraging way that made Draco frown in confusion.

"I'll return soon, but I have other patients to check on. If she wakes, please contact one of the Healers outside immediately." The Healer explained before pivoting on her heals and exiting the room. Draco's frowned deepened and he turned to Harry.

"That was strange?" He said, shaking his head.

"You'll really be able to help her if it happens again?" Harry asked, shooting a glance at Draco.

"Yes. My father had many in our home that he tortured. They nearly all suffered from shock, and I was forced to handle them." Draco murmured his voice slightly strained. "I think it was seeing me that did it." He whispered, glancing at Harry guiltily. Harry frowned, glancing from Hermione to Draco.

"Are you blaming yourself for what just happened?" Harry asked and when Draco nodded once Harry shook his head adamantly. "You helped her." He said but Draco shrugged his shoulder.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have stayed. Perhaps I should go." Draco mumbled, turning to go, but Harry's hand caught his arm just above the elbow.

"You helped her." He repeated, but all Draco did was glance at him with sad eyes before pulling his arm gently loose and covering the distance to the door quickly he disappeared into the hall. Harry stared after him feeling conflicted, both wanting to tell Draco he could stay and wanting to simply let him leave.

* * *

There was a chill in the air that shook Ginny Weasley to the core. She shivered in the small, dark room, fighting feebly against the rope binding her wrists behind her back. Awkwardly she sat on the floor, leaning on the wall behind her, though the stone wall pressing on her twisted arms was far from pleasant. Her eyes roved over the dim room, settling on a candle burning in a small niche in the wall. The flame flickered to the point of almost extinguishing but then flared to life brightly at the same instant that the door was slammed open. Ginny kept her eyes fixed on the candle's flame even when rough hands grabbed her hair near her scalp and pulled her to her feet.

"Filthy." A voice hissed in her ear. Ginny's jaw tightened. "So filthy, but so beautiful." A finger ran across her cheek, resting on her lower lip. Ginny swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Slowly she moved her eyes to the man's face, but she did not recognize him.

"Don't touch me." She whispered and the man's mouth cracked into a smile full of dirty and broken teeth. Ginny cringed slightly but stared at him impassively. "Don't touch me." She repeated, slightly louder this time.

"Shut your mouth." The man spat out, slapping her hard across her face. Ginny gasped as her face turned sharply with the impact. Her cheek and jaw ached and she stumbled slightly on her feet, but the man's grip tightened on her hair and began to pull her toward the door.

"Let me go." Ginny demanded, pulling against the man's grasp even though it hurt her scalp immensely. The man paid her no heed and continued to drag her, though she struggled, down the corridors until the reached a closed door. The man rapped on it twice with his knuckles and it opened immediately revealing Severus Snape. Ginny glared at him, tears in her eyes.

"Miss Weasley, welcome." Snape said with a smile, waving a hand to the room behind him. Ginny followed the motion of his hand and sucked in a sharp intake of breath when she saw Isabelle chained to a chair, her face covered in blood that dripped onto her lap. Isabelle's face was pointed down, and her eyes were closed and for a moment Ginny was convinced she was dead, but then a soft moan escaped the bleeding woman. "I'm sure you remember Isabelle." Snape snickered, casting a pleased glance at Isabelle.

"You're despicable." Ginny growled, fighting once more against the man holding her. She was struck again in the face, which only caused her to fight harder until Snape extended his wand and immobilized her.

"Silly child." Snape said with a small sigh. "Chain her to the chair." He instructed, turning his attention to Isabelle. Ginny cried out as the men dragged her to an empty chair and began to chain her legs, arms and torso to it. Her eyes were fixed on Snape as he walked toward Isabelle twirling his wand lazily. Ginny's heart pounded in her chest.

Ginny watched in horror as Snape pointed his wand at Isabelle and the woman began screaming. Isabelle's eyes flew open and stared pleadingly at Snape, but he merely chuckled, moving closer. Isabelle's chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, her eyes wide and her fingers clasping the arms of the chair so tightly Ginny was sure the wood would splinter. A strangled cry came from Isabelle and her eyes closed tightly.

"Please, Severus, please." Isabelle begged, shaking her head. Tears fell onto her cheeks leaving streaks of her skin visible beneath the crimson blood. Opening her eyes, Isabelle locked them on Snape's. "Severus, please do not do this." She beseeched but Snape merely turned his face away from her and looked at Ginny coldly.

"Don't worry, you won't suffer like this." He said calmly, and Ginny shuddered at the absolute lack of emotion in his eyes. "Yours will be much worse." He promised.

* * *

The moment Draco exited Hermione's room he stopped, leaning against the wall. He felt the need to protect her. He had promised that he would not leave her again, and granted, Harry and the Order could give her ample protection, but truly Draco believed even they would not be enough against Voldemort and even Snape. There was dark magic that could combat any protection they could offer Hermione, but Draco knew it all, so he could provide it better. However, it was the look on Hermione's face when she had seen him that had caused Draco to pause and reconsider. At first there had been an utter look of confusion, and then absolute terror. Was she truly afraid of him? Or was it merely the memory of everything that had happened to her? In any case, he was certain that it was seeing him that had set her off.

With a sigh, Draco glanced down the hall, noting the people moving about purposefully. No one paid him any attention, so he merely stayed that way, leaning against the wall and stared at the floor. He remained that way for nearly ten minutes before he realized that someone had stopped to his left and was watching him. Draco's eyes lifted and landed on a familiar face that he had not seen since his seventh year at Hogwarts. Daphne Greengrass watched him with careful brown eyes. "My sister seems quite taken with you, the reformed Malfoy savior." She said softly. Draco sighed and looked away.

"Why did you do it, Draco?" Daphne inquired, her voice still soft, but strong. Draco gave her a sideways look then shook his head.

"I didn't believe what was being taught to me. I didn't want to live that life." He said weakly. Daphne nodded, reaching a hand out to touch his arm.

"We are all very grateful and very glad." She said, causing Draco to look up at her with a frown. "As I am sure Hermione is. I do hope you will stay until she wakes." Daphne said giving Draco a look that stated clearly that she had correctly guessed his thoughts while in the hall.

"How did you…" Draco trailed off.

"The walls have ears, I would say." Daphne smiled at him, but then said more seriously, "If I were you it's what I would be doing. In the presence of my former enemies having just betrayed everyone I knew, I would be questioning whether or not to wait as well. It would do her good to see you. From what I've heard you've done an awful lot that she will want to thank you for." Daphne said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze where her hand was touching him and then turned and walked into Hermione's room with a backward glance at Draco and a small smile.


	25. Trust

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer**: I do not own, we all know this. 

**Author's Note:** Review!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-five  
_Trust_

Harry Potter sat with his head in his hands, his best hope for rescuing Ginny had walked out of the hospital room and not yet returned. He had considered following Draco into the hall, but the thought of leaving Hermione alone without even a Healer to watch her made him very uncomfortable. All he could do now was wait to see if Draco would indeed return. A gnawing pain was churning in Harry's stomach as he thought of the possibility of never seeing Ginny again, and if what Draco had told them was true, he very well may see Ginny alive, but she would be a walking pandemic. A shudder passed through Harry's body at the thought. The sound of the door opening caused Harry's head to look up, but he was not greeted with the sight of Draco Malfoy. Daphne Greengrass stepped into the room with a warm smile on her face.

"Harry, how is she doing?" Daphne asked, glancing at Hermione's form. Harry gave a small shrug, not wanting to speak just yet. He felt as if he would cry at any moment, and Daphne must have sensed it, because she rested a comforting hand on his arm and took a seat beside him. They sat in a companionable silence for five minutes until Harry chose to speak.

"You knew Malfoy better than any of us, being a Slytherin." He began, glancing at Daphne. "Do you think he would listen to you more than us?" Harry asked, his voice low and uncertain.

"Draco and I never ran in the same circle at Hogwarts, you know that Harry. I doubt he would listen to me any more than he would listen to you." Daphne said quietly. "What is it about him that's bothering you?" She inquired, and Harry let out a frustrated sigh.

"Everything!" He burst out. "How can we trust him? How can we not? What do I do?" Harry's voice wavered and he once more placed his head in his hands. Daphne looked unsure of what to say, but then she took a deep breath and touched Harry's shoulder. He looked up at her with watery eyes.

"He saved Hermione's life, Harry. For that alone I think he deserves your trust." Daphne paused, licking her lips. "Why did you ask if he would listen to me?" She asked.

"If he leaves we might not be able to rescue Ginny." Harry said in a tortured voice.

"Trust him, Harry." Daphne said and Harry looked at her with his confusion written in his eyes and every line of his face. "Just trust him that he'll want to help you. Maybe all he's looking for is the right person or people to simply have a little faith in him."

* * *

The chains binding Ginny Weasley to the chair were cold against her skin and she trembled involuntarily. She glared at Snape as he returned his attention back to Isabelle. The woman had gone oddly silent and Ginny locked her eyes on Isabelle searching for a sign of life. Though Ginny would not be terribly sad if Isabelle were to die, no one deserved to die a death by torture. The sound of feet behind her caused Ginny's head to whip around and she narrowed her eyes at a man approaching her. He held a syringe topped with a hypodermic needle in one hand and his wand in the other. Not commonly used in the Wizarding world, Ginny was unused to this device. She narrowed her eyes at it, wondering what it would do. 

The man smiled at her somewhat coldly and pointed his wand at her. Without even speaking a spell, a piece of rope was conjured into the air around Ginny and flew towards her. She followed its advancement with her eyes and winced as it wound itself tightly around the middle of her upper arm. Confused, Ginny stared at the man who had covered the distance between them. He tucked his wand into his pocket and touched her arm, turning it so that the inside of her elbow was facing up.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked, her voice shaking.

The man gave her no warning before thrusting the needle at her arm, piercing her skin. She gave a startled cry as it sank in and injected her with the clear liquid in the syringe. Jerking her arm away, Ginny glared at him ferociously. The man smiled at her once more, looking at the empty syringe with satisfaction. His eyes locked on hers and she felt a chill at the small glint of joy in his eyes.

"Soon." He said, his eyes boring into hers. He chuckled softly, tossing the syringe and needle onto the floor away from them. Snape looked over his shoulder as he knelt before Isabelle.

"Is it done?" He asked and the man nodded before turning away and exiting the room silently. Snape studied Ginny carefully. "You'll be freed in the morning." He said flatly, once more facing Isabelle. Ginny's frown deepened and she struggled against the chains.

"What do you mean I'll be freed in the morning?" She demanded, her heart pounding in her chest. Snape gave her an irritated look and rose to his feet. He gave her a backward glance as he left, but said nothing. "What did you do to me?" Ginny screamed, fighting to be free of the chains. The door closed behind Snape with a resounding thud and Ginny dissolved into sobs pulling as hard she could against her restraints. Eventually she calmed and stared blankly at the wall, not understanding what was going on at all. Nearly two hours after Snape had left a small groan came from Isabelle and the woman shifted. Ginny's eyes snapped to her instantly.

Slowly Isabelle raised her head to look at Ginny. Candles around the room had been left lit and Ginny could see the dried blood cracking and flaking off of Isabelle's face. They stared at each other, Ginny with a fierce glare and Isabelle a pained awareness of the other occupant of the room. Ginny pulled suddenly against the chains and was slightly satisfied to see Isabelle flinch at the loudness of the chains clanging at the sudden movement. The satisfaction drained away quickly and instead was replaced by pity. Isabelle's breathing was very labored and tears shone in her eyes. "They're releasing you." Isabelle said weakly.

"Why?" Ginny demanded. Isabelle gave her a sad look.

"If you wish for those you love to live, don't seek them out once you are freed." Isabelle murmured. Ginny had to strain to hear her words.

"What?" Ginny asked, more confused than ever. Isabelle closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

"No, go to them." She said more forcefully than before, a small smile touching her lips. "Go to them." She repeated, opening her eyes and staring into Ginny's. Disconcerted at the look in them, Ginny had to look away.

"What did they do to me?" She whispered, glancing back at Isabelle who had closed her eyes once more. The room fell into silence, broken only now and then by small whimpers of pain that came from Isabelle. Time passed slowly until the door opened once more and another man Ginny did not recognize entered, pointed his wand at her in a bored manner and the chains instantly fell away from her.

"Follow me." He said shortly. Ginny remained where she was, rubbing the places that the chains had held her, and the man made a sound in his throat like a growl. He stalked towards her and grabbed her wrist roughly, pulling her to her feet. "I said follow me." He snapped and Ginny pulled away from his touch but followed him out the door. He led her through the halls and up a set of stairs at the top of which was a door that led outside. The sky was dark, but Ginny could see that it was lightening to her right as the sun began to rise. The man shoved her completely out the door and closed it behind her. Frowning, she stumbled down several steps and then turned to stare at the door, unsure what she should do. Biting her lip, she circled slowly until she was facing away from the building.

"If you think you can manage the distance," Snape's voice said from somewhere to her right, "apparate home." He stepped closer to her and Ginny turned to face him trying to mask her fear.

"What did you do to me?" Ginny demanded, her voice trembling only slightly but all Snape did in response was raise his wand and point it at her chest, his face twisted in a sneer. His mouth opened as he began to speak a spell but Ginny immediately disappeared. A satisfied smile fell onto his face and he fell silent as he stared at the spot the red headed girl had previously occupied.

* * *

Draco Malfoy did not return to Hermione's room until much later. When he did, he would find Harry sleeping awkwardly in a chair and Hermione sitting up in the bed staring at her hands. The sound of the door opening caused her to look up and her eyes connected with Draco's, but she looked away though he did not miss the pain that flashed in them. Draco sighed, closing the door gently behind him and took a seat beside Harry, careful not to wake him. Across the room, Hermione turned her face away, so that she was staring at the wall. Draco felt considerably uncomfortable, feeling as though he should not have come back, but when he rose to his feet to once more make his way out of the room, Hermione's trembling voice stopped him. 

"You said you wouldn't leave." She said, barely above a whisper. Draco turned to her, a frown on his face. "You promised me you would help me." She said, and Draco saw the tears forming in her eyes. Faced with this situation, Draco didn't know what to do.

"I will." He said somewhat lamely and Hermione frowned at him.

"You said you were the only one who could protect me." Hermione's voice rose slightly and Harry shifted in his sleep, making a noise. It hit Draco then how terrified she must be, how useless she must know spells for protection would be against dark magic. He could see the frustration in her eyes at knowing that he, her former enemy, was most likely her only hope at both surviving and saving her friend. He saw her fear at being so helpless. Draco wondered what exactly must have been going through her head, after everything that she had seen and been through. Not knowing what to do or say, Draco did the only logical thing in his mind, even though it was completely irrational, he turned and fled the room without looking back.

Hermione stared after him with tears falling on her cheeks. Through everything that had happened, she had found in Draco someone that would speak with her as though she were an equal while everyone else treated her like dirt. She had found comfort, even in the smallest form, with him after learning of Ron's death. They had become friends in a way, and whether she liked it or not, she did trust him. How can you not trust someone who has risked his life to save yours? It angered her slightly how dependent she felt on him. It was the same as when he had meant to apparate away from her and she felt a gripping fear over losing this new friend, her only friend that could actually protect her and be close to her.

She knew that Harry would protect her as best he could, but she also knew that there were powers Voldemort and his Death Eaters would use that Harry would not. Draco held no such qualms, and could fight their power on more equal grounds. Not only this, but Draco understood the way their minds worked, better than Harry could ever hope to. Draco had been raised among them, and he was their best chance at rescuing Ginny alive. Hermione had complete confidence that Draco could help them; after all, he was extremely intelligent, even if she wouldn't admit it to his face, and had rescued her. True, he had an advantage, being on the inside and not having been found out as a traitor yet, but Hermione somehow simply knew that he could help them.

Another small noise from Harry brought Hermione's eyes to him and found that he was staring at her. She burst into tears and Harry was on his feet instantly. She clung to him desperately and cried into his chest. Soothingly, he stroked her hair and murmured to her that everything would be ok. Neither noticed that outside the door Draco was standing, watching them through the window in the door. Neither noticed, being too wrapped up in the comfort and despair of one another, when the door opened and Draco reentered the room with a resolute look on his face and took a seat beside the chair Harry had vacated.


	26. Virulent

**Unbreakable**

By patronsaintof

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**Disclaimer:** Don't own.

**Author's Note:** Review, it's all I really ask. Thank you so much to those of you who have been. Uncountable thanks to Max Ride Fan 13 who continually points out my mistakes in grammar so I don't look like a complete idiot.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-six  
_Virulent_

The moment Ginny Weasley felt the disorientation common with apparition she panicked. She had no calculable idea of the distance between her point of apparition and her current destination: home. With a lurching, violent sensation in her stomach, Ginny found herself falling onto her knees gasping for air. Her palms hit the ground firmly at the same instant that her mouth began to salivate profusely as bile rose in her throat. Gracelessly Ginny vomited between her hands. With a groan she swallowed, cringing slightly at the vile taste in her mouth.

Rocking back on her heels, Ginny looked around her taking note of the dense, dark forest around her. She could barely make out the massive shapes of the towering trees surrounding her on all sides. Not knowing where she was, without a wand, and feeling increasingly weak, Ginny unsteadily rose to her feet and chose a direction and began to walk. It was difficult, because not only was the darkness disorienting but also she could not see clearly the ground beneath her as she walked. Her feet became entangled in roots above the ground or fallen branches and she continuously stumbled.

Convinced that she must be bleeding from several stinging points on her face and arms after a rather nasty fall, Ginny decided to rest. She was slightly out of breath from the exertion, which was made more difficult by the mere fact that she had been given little food during the, what she had guessed to be, three days of her being held captive. Fumbling nearly blind, she managed to find her way to the base of a large tree and sank against it, tucking her knees to her chest as she sat. The air seemed oddly warm, which Ginny had not noticed earlier, though she should have. With heavy eyes, Ginny sighed and let her legs push away from her until they were resting on the ground fully. Soon, she was slumped and sleeping soundly, her exhaustion getting the better of her.

When she woke, the sun had already risen in the sky and was sifting lazily through the tree branches. Blinking groggily, Ginny straightened and rubbed her eyes with one hand as she yawned. The moment she became fully aware of her surroundings she also became aware of a dull ache in the center of her chest. Ignoring it, she rose to her feet and began to observe the forest around her. Overall, she felt slightly hopeless, for when she attempted to apparate she found that she couldn't. A sense of defeat rose inside of her as well, when she realized she had no idea of knowing which way she had been traveling the night before or which direction would lead her out of the forest and to a town.

Grumbling under her breath Ginny's brow furrowed and she began to walk north, though she had no idea that was the case. Traveling during the day was much easier than at night. Ginny easily sidestepped any above ground roots that sat waiting to trip her, and was able to avoid any fallen branches in her way. However, within a half hour she was weak with fatigue. Her stomach growled angrily at its lack of sustenance. Her head feeling light, Ginny chose to rest on a small felled tree. Sitting with her hands on her knees and head inclined toward her chest, she breathed deeply trying to calm her body and regain overall control. Her mind seemed to be playing tricks on her; she kept hearing faint whisperings all around her.

Determined, Ginny forced herself to continue traveling and by the time night fell she was terribly weak and found that she could not walk any more. Her stomach complained in the form of sharp pains of hunger, and a nauseous swirl she contributed to her pounding head. Parched of thirst, Ginny felt suddenly as though she had lost all control of her body. Blinking slowly, she looked around, trying to focus on anything and everything. Her vision blurred and in a rush, the ground came swiftly to greet her body with a dull thud. At the moment of impact her mind went blank.

Gradually Ginny became aware of soft-spoken voices somewhere in the darkness, then of comforting warmth that seemed to envelope her. A small sigh escaped her and very close to her ear she heard a small boy's voice exclaim, "She's waking up!" Frowning slightly, Ginny's eyes opened into slits. She peered around her in a haze only to find that she could not distinguish any shapes, though there appeared to be several human sized dark blobs to her right. The room was a blur of gentle amber.

"Amanda, please get me some water." A woman's kind voice spoke and Ginny turned her face to the origin of the sound. Her vision cleared for a moment before once more collapsing into a blurry mess of shadows and colors, but in that moment she caught sight of three individuals, a man woman and teenage girl, each watching her with a look of worry mixed with joy. They were strangers, but they seemed to exude compassion and kindness, for which Ginny was grateful. Her eyes closed, but a gentle touch to her cheek caused them to fly open. "Can you hear me?" The woman touching her asked. Her blue eyes shone down on Ginny with startling clarity. Weakly Ginny nodded her head. The woman smiled brightly and turned to the others. They spoke in hushed voices that Ginny couldn't make out, but in any case, she was far too tired to keep her eyes open or try to listen.

Having already slept for an entire day, Ginny fell into a fitful sleep that would encompass another twenty hours. When she woke for the third time since her release, she began coughing violently. The dull ache in her chest had been replaced by a sharpness that increased in intensity each time she inhaled or coughed. Despite the heavy layer of blankets, which she blamed upon waking for her body being covered in sweat, she shivered so violently that her teeth clicked together as they chattered. The moment the coughing fit had subsided, Ginny lifted herself to a seated position and winced at the pain that seemed to itch along her very skin. She felt the ache in her arms, legs, back and neck. Looking around, Ginny noticed that the room she was in was oddly dark, though she could see the outline of light shining in from behind the curtains covering the window.

Unsteadily, she rose to her feet and made her way to the window. Breathing deeply and trying to forget the pain that seemed to have spread from the center of her chest to her lungs, she carefully put one bare foot in front of the other, hugging the loose nightgown she wore close to her body. Obviously, whoever had found her had taken the liberties of putting her in clean, more comfortable clothing. An intense wave of shivering hit her and she had to pause in the middle of the room until it passed. Her face seeming to wear a permanent frown, Ginny covered the distance to the window quickly then, disregarding the fact that she wobbled and lost her balance causing her to fall heavily against the wall. Her fingers clutched at the curtains until she had steadied herself and then, she pushed them open slowly.

The bright light hurt her eyes so she turned away quickly, being sure to steady herself with one hand on the ledge of the window. She squinted around the room, locating the door and taking one unsteady step towards it. Once she was sure that she wouldn't lose her balance again she made her way slowly to the open door. With every step she seemed to regain a bit of energy, though it was still severely depleted. In the doorway, she paused, looking around the portion of the house that was visible to her. The curtains were closed just as they had been in the room she had woken in. It seemed from where she was standing she could see a small living area with couches, bookshelves and a small table directly in front of her. To her left was a small hallway with several closed doors. Uncertain, Ginny stepped out of the room and made her way into the living area.

"Hello?" She called out softly. There was a small movement on one of the couches and she stopped, staring at it with wide eyes. Her fear, which had remained small until now, flared to life causing her heart to pound erratically. A door opened within the hallway and Ginny pivoted in place to find the same woman she had seen before coming towards her quickly. The woman's face was tight and drawn with worry. She barely gave Ginny a passing glance and hurried to where the movement had occurred on the couch. The woman pulled a blanket back to reveal a small child, a boy who was pale faced and shivering. It seemed to Ginny that a portion of his face was discolored and darker than the rest of his paled skin, but it was dark in the room and she couldn't be sure.

The woman spoke to him in a soothing manner, but the boy cried out in pain when she touched him. The woman held a cup to the boy's lips, nearly forcing him to drink it. He gulped down what was probably half before hitting it out of the woman's hand. It fell to the floor, splashing the carpet with liquid. Instead of reprimanding the boy, the woman merely wrapped her arms gently around him as he began to cry. Ginny watched soundlessly until the boy became quiet and still. The woman laid him gently on the couch, once more covering him with the blanket and rose to her feet, ignoring the spilled cup. She turned to Ginny with pained and accusing eyes taking in the horrified direction of her eyes.

"He's sleeping." The woman said dully, then with more conviction. "You need to leave." Her eyes had narrowed coldly and she was glaring at Ginny. Confused Ginny stepped back towards the bedroom one hand rising protectively in front of her chest.

"What did I do?" Ginny asked, bewildered by the seeming compassion that had been exhibited before and the coldness, and perhaps anger, that she was receiving now. The woman's glare became stronger.

"You brought the Devil with you." The woman hissed walking past Ginny but being careful not to touch her.

"The devil?" Ginny repeated, not understanding what the woman was saying. She concluded that she must be in a Muggle home, and to a Muggle-born witch the reference would have gone understood, but to Ginny it meant nothing. The woman disappeared into a room and returned with a bundle of clothes in her arms.

"You witch." The woman cried, throwing the clothes at Ginny's feet. Ginny blinked in surprise. She knew she was a witch? "May God have mercy on your soul. Get dressed and get out." The woman demanded, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes.

Without speaking Ginny bent to retrieve the clothes and returned to the room, quickly changing into a pair of muggle jeans that were slightly too large for her and a worn t-shirt that was also slightly too large. A black pullover sweatshirt was the only thing left for her to wear, but Ginny decided to wait until she was outside and so she stepped back into the hall with bare feet, wearing Muggle clothing, and a sweatshirt in her hand. The woman was still in the hall watching her with cautious eyes. Unsure which way to go in order to leave the home Ginny paused. The woman hurriedly led her to the door. The moment Ginny stepped outside the woman spoke.

"You should count yourself blessed that my husband did not shoot you while you slept as he wanted to after our son caught whatever Devil-born evil you carry." Then the woman slammed the door closed. The air was chilled again, and Ginny slipped the sweatshirt over her head. Her feet felt as cold as ice as she stepped down the porch and onto a dirt path leading to a road. There were no other houses in sight, though to the right Ginny saw the dense forest she had been in before. Deciding that the left would be the best option, Ginny took a deep breath, tried to clear her mind of the confusion she felt and began to walk. She glanced behind her repeatedly, afraid of what the woman had said. What had she done to cause them so much hostility towards her? Had she caused the boy to fall ill? Shivering, Ginny pulled the sweatshirt around her tighter, trying desperately not to think of the fatigue she felt along with the pain in her chest and body, or that even as she trembled with the cold her body was fast becoming drenched with sweat.


	27. Author's Note

**Unbreakable**

_patronsaintof_  
Jamie Luxx

* * *

**Author's Note:** For those of you expecting a new chapter, I am sorry to disappoint you, but _for the time being_ I won't be posting any more chapters. I am, however, going back and redoing what I already have of this story. This post is simply a way of me letting you know that _I haven't forgotten, nor abandoned this piece_. As for what's already been written – there will be some changes as well as some characters being added into the story. Whether or not that majorly affects where my story has already gone, I'm not sure. Though I will for the most part try my best to stick with what I have and only enhance it, adding more background to what's happening, as well as a better over-all feel to what's going on. So far, I've only got the first chapter and about half of the second re-edited and on it's way to being perfected. I'm not sure how long it will take, but as soon as I've got it polished, I will rehand it out. Though, I may wait until I actually have the entire story finished just for the sake of simplicity and not having to worry about running into a bout of writer's block and postponing the completion for a second time.

**My biggest apologies, and hopefully by the time I have it up and ready to be read you will forgive me and still be interested in the outcome!**


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